


By That Sin Fell The Angels

by HellToupee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Gen, Greek pantheon, Post Season Six, Supernatural AU - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-07-29
Updated: 2012-02-23
Packaged: 2017-10-23 05:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/246819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HellToupee/pseuds/HellToupee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Cas becomes God, Dean and Sam are looking desperately for any help they can get. Finding it, though, opens up a whole new can of supernatural worms that they never knew existed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Post S6 AU, beginning about three weeks after the events of 6x22. Don't own, don't profit.

"Dean?"

Sam hesitated on Bobby's porch. Dean was in the junkyard pacing between a rusting pile of car parts and a rusting pile of oil drums, eyes to the gravel, deep in thought. It worried Sam more than anything Dean had done in the previous three weeks; at least then Dean had been fighting, moving, trying manically to find _anything_ that would help them remove the souls from Cas and get him back to something resembling normal. He'd worked day and night, forgoing sleep and subsisting on cereal and Irish coffee, calling up every hunter, psychic, witch, and sympathetic monster they knew to find a solution. He'd moved with a fury Sam hadn't seen since their hunt for their missing father. Eventually, though, the contacts and leads had run out and he had just...stopped. _He's starting to give up,_ Bobby had said to him this morning over breakfast. _And to be honest, so am I_.

"Dean." Seeing his brother flinch, Sam grimaced inwardly. Dean was always on guard even at the best of times, and this was not the best of times. They'd all spent the time since Cas's power-grab suspicious and on edge. He had made good on his promise not to harm any of them, but trust was running a little short in that relationship. And they had no idea where he was or what he could be planning.

"What? Find anything?" Dean hadn't bothered trying to hide his flat tone, and Sam briefly considered just not answering. That would make Dean angrier than just telling the truth, though. Given the last few months, the truth was the safest bet.

"Nothing. Bobby's run out of phone book." Sam was across the yard and standing next to his brother in a few long strides. "No spells that anyone can find, no rituals. Even if we knew one, the next full eclipse is years away." Dean leaned against an oil drum, rubbing his hands though his hair in frustration.

"And Cas has killed anyone and anything even remotely close to having both the mojo and the will to take him out. The ones that are alive won't talk to us. _Fantastic_." Dean glanced briefly at the sky. "You son of a bitch." Sam sighed, crossing his arms in front of him. It was getting chilly, and the clouds overhead looked as though they might open up at any minute. He had to wonder if Cas was watching them, right now; no dead angels had been found that day, and all was unnervingly quiet on the demonic front. Maybe they were taking a break from trying to slaughter each other.

"He didn't manage to kill everyone, Dean. We could always-" Dean's head snapped up to face Sam and he stood, fists clenched.

"We are not. calling. Crowley. The next time I have to see that limey bastard, it's going to be during his exorcism." Dean slid his hands into his pockets and clenched his jaw, his hard stare daring Sam to say more.

"I'm just saying, Dean. Even if he doesn't have the power he'll have the knowledge, and we need anything we can get right now." A few seconds of charged silence passed before he spoke again. "Whatever, man. Let's get inside before it starts raining. You need to eat something anyways." Grabbing his brother by the shoulder, he steered him back towards the house. Dean dug his heels into the gravel on principle.

"I mean it, Dean," he snapped in response to the silent sarcasm. "You can't run off of beer and chocolate bars forever. I'll have Bobby fry you some eggs or something." They had been inside no more than a minute when the sky opened and a freezing rain poured down.

* * *

 _"You're not my family. I have no family."_

 _Dean had not expected those words to hurt so much. Losing Cas, on top of Sam and Ben and Lisa, was just too much. And dammit, Cas was right; it was a Hail Mary pass, a last resort to try and save the only family he had left. Immobile with fear, he was losing another loved one and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Worse: he was at least partially to blame for it in the first place._

 _The ease with which Cas had pulled the sword from his own spine had made Dean nauseous. It was like he hadn't even felt it. He was so punch-drunk on souls that he'd lost his own humanity, if you could even call it that. Sam and Bobby's faces mirrored his own shock, the exact danger and helplessness of their own situation finally hitting them. Dean almost missed Cas's next words due to the sheer mindless panic that had settled into every inch of his being._

 _"So you will bow down and profess your love unto me, your Lord, or I shall destroy you." Dean stood, shaking, for a moment. Something twisted, deep inside him; Cas had the power to destroy half the planet at will, and the first thing he did was ask to be loved. A twisted, dark, and fucked-up love, but still love._

 _There was nothing else he could do. Slowly, millimeter by millimeter, Dean sank to his knees. A soft thump in front of him and the sound of a popping joint followed by a pained groan behind told him that Sam and Bobby had done the same. He looked everywhere but at Cas, his eyes eventually finding his brother's. They held each other's gaze for a moment before Sam broke contact. A hand gently cupped Dean's chin and directed it upward. Dean was greeted with an amused half-smile and what was now a frighteningly cold gaze. There was nothing left of the angel that he knew in front of him._

 _"Do not be afraid, Dean. I am a merciful God to those who are loyal. Despite our quarrels and shortcomings, you have proven yourself so." The hand moved from his chin to the side of his face, and Cas squatted down to look him in the eye. "You and your family shall remain unharmed so long as you are faithful." He stood abruptly and turned, raising his fist into the air. The wall in front of him crumbled._

 _"I have matters that I must see to. Go home, my children."_

 _There was a brilliant flash of light, and then Cas was gone._

* * *

Dean's gun was in his hand before he was even fully awake, muscle memory taking over out of habit. He surveyed the room for the noise that had woken him from that damn dream. A sudden vibration from the end table told him that his cell phone was ringing, the screen flashing _Private Number_ at him. He reached for it and tapped the _talk_ button, still suspiciously eyeing the doors and windows for any signs of intrusion; Bobby had laid every protective spell and sigil he knew on the place, but they all suspected that a little thing like Enochian warding magic wouldn't trouble Cas for very long. Not after the all-you-can-eat soul food buffet. Dean lifted the phone to his ear.

"Kerry Livgren."

"Dean? That you?" Dean relaxed slightly at the familiar tobacco-tinged drawl: Joey Haiman, a South Carolina hunter he'd worked with several years ago. He laid back down, wincing as his back popped painfully. _I'm getting too old for this shit._ Shaking off his annoyance at being woken up during a rare night of sleep, he forced his usual cheer and bravado to take over.

"Joey! I thought you were dead, you salty bastard. Didn't your bolt-hole get hit by ghouls a while back? And why are you calling me at ..." He squinted at his watch in the darkness, trying to tilt the face to catch what little light there was. Three-fifteen AM. "...ass o'clock in the morning?" Joey let out a wheezing, rasping laugh that hurt just to listen to.

"I made it out okay. Bastards weren't expectin' a silver-loaded semi-auto. And the reason I'm callin' you at ass o'clock in the morning is that I may have found a solution to that _problem_ you've been callin' around about." Dean sat straight up, not quite believing his ears.

"What you got?"

"Nothing direct. It's a 'know a guy who knows a guy' situation." A soft knock sounded at the door, and Dean looked up to find Sam hovering in the hallway, still half-asleep. Dean waved him in and quickly pulled a pad of paper and a pen out of the bedside drawer.

"Anything's better than nothing, Joey. Give me the goods." Dean flicked the speaker on and laid the phone on the bed between himself and Sam.

"Alright. So I was out at the bar the other night mindin' my own business and this squirrelly little guy walks up. Tiniest man I've ever seen, no bigger than four, four and a half feet tall. Asks me if I'm a hunter. Now y'all know me; I'm suspicious as the night is long, so I say to him, let's go outside and talk about this in private..." Sam's brow furrowed and he pointed at the phone. _I thought he was dead,_ he mouthed. Dean shrugged, tapping the pen on his leg impatiently.

"So after I'd got done doin' the usual once-over, I ask him what his name is and why he thinks he's got business with me. His name is Hector, he says, and he thinks he can help someone named Winchester, do I know any such person?" There was a slight pause, and the sound of a glass being filled. "Turns out he's a daemon." Sam leaned over the phone, eyes narrowed.

"Daemon as in the benevolent Greek spirit or daemon as in 'that's how my redneck ass pronounces the word demon'?"

"Nice to see your smart ass too, Sam. I mean the Greek spirit. Says he knows someone might be able to help you boys out, and he'd be willing to tell you where to find them." Dean scribbled down the words _Hector_ and _daymon_ on the pad and handed it to Sam, who rolled his eyes and scratched out the Y to replace it with an E.

"Did he say anything about compensation?"

"Didn't say anythin' except he knew someone who could help. I sent him your way, he should be there by tomorrow. " Dean sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"Thanks, Joey. This really helps. We owe you one." Hanging up the phone, Dean stood and stretched. "Wake Bobby up. We need to read everything we can about daemons before this one gets here."

* * *

"So basically...generally good, standard allergies except to holy water, won't kill except in self-defense, occasionally cryptic, slightly creepy." Bobby shut the dusty book on the desk gently, cursing as the split in the spine grew another quarter-inch. "Nice to have one that doesn't want to kill us, for once."

Dean stood at the window, watching the road carefully. Another quiet, gloomy day had descended, with no more reports of attacks or bizarre natural disasters. The lack of activity was worrisome. _What on earth are you up to, Cas?_ A moving figure at the edge of the junkyard caught his eye; someone was making his way though the cars towards the house.

"Sam. Bobby. I think our boy's here." Sam picked up his shotgun and headed for the door, Dean close behind. Bobby loitered further back in the hall, silver knife at the ready.

For several minutes there was no sound but the crunch of shoes on gravel. Dean listened carefully, trying to judge the daemon's distance from the door, calculating if he was close enough to get a shot off if he had to. Finally, a light knock sounded at the door. Dean swung it open to reveal a small, dark man, hardly bigger than a child, staring at them with large black eyes.

"Mister Dean Winchester?" Dean stepped forward, nodding to the daemon.

"I'm Dean. This is my brother Sam and our friend Bobby Singer." The daemon smiled, revealing a mouthful of small, pointed teeth, and held out his hand as if to shake Dean's.

"I'm Hector." When he received no handshake, Hector lowered his hand and nodded toward Bobby and his silver knife. "I presume you will want to test me in case I'm a demon or some other kind of monster?" Bobby nodded, stepping forward. Hector rolled up the sleeve of his sweater and held his arm out. A slightly dirty bandage circled his forearm where Joey had cut him several nights before.

"Mister Haiman told me to expect this. He seemed to think that the three of you would be unusually thorough."

"He was right," said Sam. "We've got some shady stuff out for our necks. It's just procedure. Gotta make sure you fit the profile." Hector inclined his head gracefully, and Dean and Sam leaned against the doorway as Bobby went to work.

"Won't take but a minute, Hector." Hector smiled another unnervingly toothy grin, sending shivers down Dean's spine.

"Oh don't worry, Mister Singer. I'm very patient."

* * *

Several minutes later Hector was perched on the couch, a glass of water clasped in his small hands. Sam and Dean sat on chairs pulled in from the kitchen while Bobby leaned on his desk, all sipping glasses of whatever lighter fluid Bobby had dug out of the pantry.

"The person you're looking for is one of the oldest creatures still walking this planet, Mister Winchester."

"Call me Dean, Hector." Hector considered this for a moment and then stood, his full height just short of Dean's while sitting. He took a small notebook from his pocket and began scribbling in it furiously, speaking as he wrote.

"Certainly, Mister Winchester. Like I said: the person you're looking for is one of the oldest creatures walking this planet. Certainly the oldest still living in the Greek pantheon, and one of the most powerful as well. You need to find Gaia, the Earth Mother." A moment of silence stretched between the four men. Hector continued scribbling in his notebook. When he showed no sign of stopping, Dean finished the last of his whiskey and set the glass on the floor.

"Gaia. The Earth Mother." Hector looked up briefly and smiled.

"Yes. I believe her abilities are sufficient to defeat the angel Castiel."

"What's she gonna do, throw flowers at him? Confuse him with interpretive dance?" The daemon paused, looking up from his writing to stare at Dean. He was still smiling, but the tone had changed; it had slipped from eerily cheerful to menacing in a heartbeat.

"Do not underestimate the Earth Mother, Mister Winchester." Hector snapped the notebook shut and handed it to Sam, never breaking eye contact with Dean. "She may not be a part of your largely paternalistic Christian mythos, but she is mother or grandmother to most of our gods and a fierce warrior in her own right. If she cannot defeat the angel Castiel alone, then she has more than enough allies with strong shields and long swords to manage the feat."

"Hector, I'm sure Dean didn't mean any offense. We're all a bit on edge with this whole situation, as I'm sure you can understand." Bobby gestured to the couch, sending Dean a silent cease-and-desist-you-idjit glare. Hector turned to Bobby after another long, uncomfortable staring contest with Dean. "Do you happen to know where we can find her? Anything you can give us would help."

"Of course, Mister Singer." The tiny daemon hopped back up onto the sofa and indicated the notebook in Sam's hand. "I've written down everything I know about her last known whereabouts there." Sam opened the notebook and squinted at the tiny, neat handwriting.

"Gaia, Earth Mother. Aliases include Rhea, Samara, Shakti, and Joan Crawford. Carries bow of Hippolyta, Queen of the Amazons. Last known to be residing in..." Sam shook his head, trying to suppress a snort of laughter. "...in Athens, Georgia." He tossed the notebook to Bobby, who chuckled and tucked it into his pocket.

" _Athens, Georgia?"_ Dean shot the daemon an incredulous look. Hector shifted in his seat, a mixture of bemusement and apology crossing his face.

"Yes, Mister Winchester. She left the peninsula some centuries ago for reasons unknown to anyone but herself. We only became aware of her location in the last decade. She is very old and her sense of humor is somewhat...different." Hector stood suddenly, holding his hand out again.

"I must be going. I have neglected my work for too long. I sincerely thank you for your hospitality." He shook their hands solemnly, having to use both of his to fully clasp Sam's. Bobby walked him to the door, but hesitated before opening it.

"Why are you helping us, Hector? What's in it for you?" The little man sighed, a weight seeming to settle on his shoulders, and looked around at them with his large eyes.

"Because I am a daemon, Mister Singer. That is what we do." He paused, considering his next words. "And because this is my world as much as it is anyone else's. I have no more desire to see it destroyed than you do, whether by your gods or ours." Dean nodded and knelt in front of Hector, placing a hand on his thin shoulder.

"Can't argue with that. Thank you, Hector. Let us know if you need any help in the future."

"I will, Mister Winchester." Hector smiled at the three again, and then opened the door, darting towards the road. Sam strode out onto the porch, Dean by his side, as they watched the small figure bound through the junkyard. Bobby scoffed from the doorway, readjusting his baseball cap.

"What a weird little critter." Sam nodded in agreement, rocking back and forth onto his heels.

"I guess that means we're going to Georgia, then." He clapped Dean on the shoulder, then walked back inside. Dean stared warily at the clouds for a few seconds, half-expecting a dozen angels to come screaming out of the sky. Satisfied that there would be no smiting for the moment, he followed Sam into the house and up the stairs.


	2. Chapter 2

"They are planning something, my Lord." Castiel leveled his gaze at the angel before him, an average-looking woman in her forties dressed in a neat pantsuit and flat, square shoes. _A 'soccer mom',_ he thought briefly. _That's what Dean and Sam would call her._ She adjusted the sleeves on her navy jacket as she waited for a response, her ever-present clipboard tucked under her arm. He knew she would stand there until He answered, as if they had all the time in the world to converse. Patience and meticulousness; two of the many reasons that He favored Metatron as a second-in-command.

"We are speaking of the Winchesters. They are always planning something." A brief flicker of pain stabbed at his temple, and He willed it away; He did not have the time to deal with his vessel's physical shortcomings. Perhaps later He could find a way to manifest Himself without it. A problem for the future.

"Do you have any details or shall I assume the information is as useless as the last report?" Metatron flipped through several pages of notes, all inscribed in heavy Enochian scrawl. Finding the page that she wanted, she handed it to Castiel.

"We couldn't get close enough to hear everything, my Lord. Singer has layered the house and yard with warding magic from at least six faiths." She paused as Castiel scanned the list of protections and symbols she'd noted in her survey. Enochian, Celtic, Hindu, Shinto...Bobby had done a thorough job. Castiel Himself could not have done much better, although it would take more than that to keep Him out of that house should He desire entrance. They lived by His mercy alone. He extended the clipboard to Metatron.

"Continue." Metatron nodded and stepped forward to take her notes back.

"What we do know is this: midmorning yesterday, a small creature that we suspect to be a Greek daemon arrived at the house. They tested him extensively to ensure he would not harm them, and then he was allowed in. After approximately two hours he left at some speed, and disappeared before we could follow him. Immediately after his departure the taller one, Sam, was heard to be saying..." Her eyes flicked to the page again, searching for the pertinent quote. " _'I guess that means we're going to Georgia, then.'_ They left early the next morning, heading southeast."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. Georgia. There was nothing that He knew of in Georgia that could possibly have interested the Winchesters to that extent. He'd seen to it personally that anything with power rivaling his own had been imprisoned or destroyed; He could not risk tempting Sam and Dean into usurping Him. He was only trying to protect them, from themselves as much as anybody else. He should have known better than to underestimate their foolhardy determination. It was time for a more direct approach.

"Go to Georgia with Seraphiel. Find out what they're after and destroy it. Once that is finished, deliver them to me." Metatron nodded slowly, copying his instructions with superhuman speed. "I want them unharmed, Metatron. Do not allow Seraphiel to get carried away. Go now."

In the blink of an eye, she was gone. Castiel winced as another barb of pain shot through his head, and examined his hands for the ninth time that day; the scorch marks marring the flesh had become bigger. He hadn't expected to burn through the vessel quite so fast; Lucifer, the most powerful of the angels, had managed to last almost a year in his before being allowed to have Sam. Even considering the vast power that now flowed in Him, Castiel had expected to have a few months at the outside. He would need to find a new vessel, a more powerful one, and He would need to find it very soon.

* * *

"So did the little guy give us anything more specific on mommy dearest? 'Greek goddess living in Georgia' is fine and all, but I'm gonna need a bit more to work with." Dean balled up his hamburger wrapper and deposited it on the empty tray, eyeing the half-finished basket of greasy fries sitting on Sam's side of the table. Sam dug in his pockets for Hector's notebook, pretending not to notice when Dean edged the basket towards himself and began eating. After three weeks of practically nothing in the way of caloric intake, Sam was glad to see his brother hungry for _anything_ , even if it was mediocre roadside fries. A good hunt always put Dean's appetite into overdrive.

He had to flip through several dozen pages before he found the right one; the first third of the notebook had been filled with an insurmountable block of text in ancient Greek, written in miniscule script that was nearly indistinguishable from Hector's Latin alphabet. Bobby had managed to translate a phrase or two before they'd left; it seemed to be an account of a massive war. Intrigued, Sam had made a mental note to study up on Greek history when he had a chance.

"Okay, here: often frequents pubs, taverns, and other places of public libation for the purpose of finding partners to bed. Is thought to have been seen at an establishment named 'The Globe'. No reliable physical description is possible owing to her prodigious talent for shapeshifting, in which she is rivaled only by Zeus himself." Sam flopped back in his chair and shared a look of annoyance with Dean, who was attempting to stack the trash on their tray.

"Well that's just great. We're looking for a bar-hopping MILF who could be just about anyone and can probably kick our asses to Canada and back. This is gonna go well." Abandoning his attempt at containing the trash, Dean stood.

"Whatever. We're maybe an hour and a half out. We can get there and sack out for a bit, be up in time for happy hour." Sam tucked the notebook into his back pocket and unfolded himself from the too-small plastic chair. Suddenly, his vision blurred and tinged with red. An unexpected spasm hit and he doubled over, feeling as though he'd been punched in the chest. He heard Dean shout his name, but he couldn't answer; he hit the floor, paralyzed, as the world around him dissolved.

* * *

 _Perhaps it was just that his nerves had been flayed raw, but he felt like he was simultaneously burning and freezing to death._

 _This would have been marginally less terrifying had he not been aware that technically, since he was in Hell, he didn't have any nerves to be flayed. Only his bare soul, stuck in the Cage with two immensely powerful, rampaging angels. They'd long since ripped their vessels to shreds, and had taken to unleashing their shared rage not on each other, but on him._

 _He heard an angel shriek with delight as he bounced off a jagged wall to land on the floor. He was left for a brief moment of peace as they began swooping around the Cage, throwing themselves against the unyielding stone in an attempt to break free._

Dean, _he thought._ Dean will find me. He'll call Cas and they'll find a way down and they'll get me out of here. He'd never leave me. _Panic rose at the thought of being stuck in the hole for the rest of time._ Dean is looking for me right now.

 _It was that thought that sustained him as he was hit with another smiting blast._

* * *

"Sammy? Sam! You okay?" Sam opened his eyes to find his brother's face mere inches from his own, wide-eyed with fear. A man knelt to Sam's left, two fingers on his wrist, evidently taking his pulse. Shaking him off, Sam scrambled to his feet, leaning heavily on Dean.

"Now son, you should really sit down and wait for the ambulance. That was a hell of a seizure and the ambulance-"

"I'm fine, thanks. We really should be going." With Dean's help Sam managed to stagger through the restaurant and out to the parking lot, climbing into the Impala before his legs could give out. Dean turned the keys in the ignition and backed out, exiting the lot seconds before a screaming ambulance turned in. For several minutes neither of them spoke while Sam fought to slow his pounding heart, every muscle in his body taut with residual terror. It was Dean who eventually broke the silence.

"The Cage?"

Sam nodded, unable to speak. Dean was silent for a moment, clearly struggling with the desire to ask for more detail; despite wanting to be able to share and commiserate with his brother about their experiences in hell, he'd respected Sam's wishes and not asked about it.

"We've gotta do something about this, Sam. It's not getting any better. And I can't have you dropping like that in a fight." Sam covered his face with one hand, massaging his temples in frustration. He'd thought of that possibility himself several times; being in the middle of a hunt, needing to be on his guard, and then suddenly he'd be on the ground, completely useless. Dean's attention would be divided, his concern for his brother keeping his focus away from whatever evil, fanged thing they were chasing. He shivered at the end of that mental scene.

"I know, Dean. There's not much we can do though, unless you know how to do some psychic remodeling." Dean's face hardened for a moment, his grip on the wheel tightening almost imperceptibly.

"Remind me to break Cas' nose if we ever manage to get him back to normal." He reached over and flipped on the radio, twisting the tuning dial until he struck slightly-out-of-range gold: an all-metal station. The rest of the trip passed in silence, except for the occasional staticky guitar solo.

* * *

"Red was a bad choice." The woman touching up her lipstick two sinks over glanced at her and smiled as Gaia frowned at herself in the mirror. Whether it was the flickering fluorescent light or just her bad temper, the auburn she'd willed into her hair earlier in the evening was grating on her eyes. She sighed in frustration and turned to the young woman, appraising her silently. The woman had a strong, bright aura; late twenties, bottle blonde, not particularly striking in the face but _unbelievable_ legs.

"It looks fine. Get it dyed recently? Sometimes it takes a few washes before it looks natural." The woman capped her lipstick with some difficulty and leaned against the sink. She'd clearly had a few too many; her lipstick had missed the mark and was now bleeding below her lower lip where her glass of bourbon and coke had smeared it.

"You could say that. It changes a lot." Gaia stepped towards the blonde carefully, the heels of her shoes clicking loudly on the floor. "What's your name?"

"Beth, and yours?" Gaia smiled, standing close enough to smell Beth's perfume. _Wedding ring, almost new. Married maybe a year._

"Gina, nice to meet you. That's a lovely ring, by the way. Been married long?" Beth nodded, holding her ring out for Gaia to examine.

"Eleven months! It's been all honeymoon, so far. Now that we've got everything settled we're getting started on a family, though that hasn't quite worked out yet. I'm hoping to be blessed with a houseful." Gaia took the extended hand gently, feeling the familiar crackle of energy in her fingertips. With the physical connection came a brief flash of images and unconscious thoughts, pouring from Beth in an enthusiastic flood; that corner room at the head of the stairs was bright and warm, perfect for a nursery. She wondered if all babies were as warm and heavy as the infant niece she held in her arms. She already had names picked out: Callum John for a boy, Amy Violet for a girl. In the back of Gaia's mind a hum began, and the lights overhead flickered slightly.

"Oh, don't worry. You're still young, you'll have them yet. I've had more than my fair share, trust me." Beth glanced down at Gaia's hand, her eyes widening at its lack of ring. Gaia ignored her; she was used to those looks by now, although it continually surprised her that after so many centuries people still considered what amounted to a business contract tantamount to success and happiness. It hadn't done much for Gaia except cause profound annoyance and the occasional war. _Humans._ She shook off the thought and concentrated on the spell, the electric feeling buzzing through her slowly draining into her right hand. Beth seemed to realize she was staring and looked back up quickly.

"You seem a bit young to have had kids yet. What are you, twenty-one? Twenty-two?" A spark suddenly snapped between their palms. Beth yelped and jerked her hand back looking first at it, then at Gaia, in confusion. Gaia stepped back and turned to face the mirror again, mentally tracking the small, pulsing point of energy that made its way up Beth's arm and then down past her heart, finally settling and fading into her belly. Gaia gave her a half-smile that could easily be misconstrued as apologetic.

"The static's so bad this time of year, isn't it?" Beth nodded in agreement , still shaken from the jolt. When she didn't reply, Gaia ran her hands through her hair again and scoffed. "Red really was a bad decision."

She closed her eyes and concentrated for a brief second when she was sure Beth wasn't looking; no need to scare the poor woman. When Gaia looked in the mirror again, she was back to her habitual dark, shoulder-length, frizzy curls. Satisfied, she shook her hair and turned for the door.

"You might want to give it a try tonight, Beth. It's a full moon. You may get lucky."

* * *

Gaia strolled back into the bar and situated herself on a stool, enjoying the press of so many bodies in the tight space. It was a cold night, and almost all of the patrons had opted to stay inside a bit longer rather than face a dark, chilly walk to their cars. Mortals tended to congregate more often and in much larger groups during the winter, she'd noticed. Perhaps it was an evolutionary holdover from the days before central heating and streetlamps, when one's only protection came from the people surrounding them. She promised herself to she'd look into it the next time she was near a library. Right now, there was work to be done.

She closed her eyes and sifted through the shimmering, shifting energies drifting through the room. Several older couples, their auras slightly faded, chatted over beers about car payments and their children's impending graduation. A pair of college-age lovers sat together in a booth, sparkling with potential; a little push in the right direction, and they'd be having beautiful children one after the other. _No,_ she scolded herself. _Don't get ahead of yourself. Let them finish their degrees, at the very least. And only if they want to._

Leaving the two aside, she stretched her senses to the corners of the room. There was Beth next to her husband, whispering in his ear and grinning. They would manage it at last tonight, to have the first of the babies they so desired. In another booth, drawing Gaia's attention like a lighthouse in a storm, was the powerful throb of an unborn heart. Four months at the most, and healthy. She smiled broadly at the woman, incanting a brief blessing in Greek under her breath.

It had been decades since Gaia last had a child. Her youngest, a son, would be well into his sixties by now; he was living happily in Oregon with his wife, children, and grandchildren, his demigod heritage only manifesting in his extraordinarily good health; he looked no more than fifty and still ran several miles a day, as had his father. Gaia still checked up on him once in a while, visiting only at night or when everyone else was gone; they had agreed it was probably best that his family stay unaware of their supernatural origins. As far as they knew, she had died when he was a teenager.

She was casting her senses around the single men, looking for a suitable potential father, when a subtly unnerving sensation began nagging at her consciousness. Something wasn't right; she counted several more human bodies than she did auras. There were more people here than there should be.

It was a shock when she finally hit upon the cause of the discrepancy: two young men, neither of them older than thirty, sitting at a table by themselves. She couldn't sense them the way she could the others. There was no denying their physical presence; she was staring right at them. But where mortal vision ended, where two bright outlines should be...nothing.

She slipped into invisibility carefully, suspicious of the unexplainable men. Whatever they were, they might be aware of her presence and sense the small ripple in the environment when she shifted out of the visible spectrum. She'd spent too long fighting her fellow Olympians in Greece to be careless anymore; anything capable of hiding itself like that was to be treated as a threat at the very least, if not avoided entirely. She edged around the crowd and crept up behind them, straining to hear their low conversation over the rumble of conversation from the crowd.

"...having to sit and wait. Are you sure Hector didn't write down some way to call her or summon her or something?"

"No, Dean. All it says is that she's been seen here and scores a lot. That's it. We're either gonna have to make something up or start asking around for Gaia or Joan Crawford or whoever." She waved a hand in front of the taller one's face, frowning when he didn't so much as flinch; he was either an extraordinarily good actor, or they couldn't sense her. Aside from their lack of spiritual presence they appeared, for all intents and purposes, to be garden-variety humans.

"Or we could pray," the other ( _Dean?)_ said. "It works for angels, could be worth a shot." When his companion shrugged, Dean closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, Judeo-Christian style.

"Gaia, Earth Mother, whatever you want to call yourself...hi. I'm Dean. Listen, we'd like to talk to you for a minute. We've got some metaphysical asses that need kicking and we hear tell you're in that line of business. So, uh...let's have a chat. I'll buy you a drink." He opened one eye, then the other, and looked around, visibly disappointed that she hadn't appeared.

Gaia watched them for a second more before making her decision. Her hand flexed unconsciously at her side, ready to snatch her bow from thin air should she need it. She shifted back into visibility and leaned on the table. Both men jumped, staring at her wide-eyed.

"I'll take a pint of Stella. You have five minutes."


	3. Chapter 3

"You did it wrong, by the way." Gaia sat back down with another round for the three of them. Dean shared an incredulous look with Sam; for such a tiny thing, Gaia could certainly drink. Despite what her short frame would suggest, she'd put away her first pint in just under two minutes and strolled off to the bar to get another without so much as a wobble on her high heels.

"Did what wrong?" Dean took one of the bottles she offered, clinked it against her glass, and took a drag. Gaia pressed her palms together in imitation of prayer and looked at him pointedly.

"Dear Gaia. Blah blah blah, I don't know how to _actually_ summon a Greek goddess, so I'm just gonna talk to the sky and hope you show up." She scoffed, took a sip of her beer, and rested her chin on one hand.

"Granted, I _did_ show up. But only because I was standing a foot away at the time. Next time go out into the forest, dump a keg on the ground, and screw someone in the mud while beseeching me for aid." She smirked at Dean, who couldn't quite decide if she was being serious.

"Anyways, let's get to the point: what is the problem and why do I care?" Dean glanced at Sam, who nodded almost imperceptibly, but with eyes narrowed; Winchester shorthand for 'only the essentials'.

"Basically...an angel swallowed all the souls in Purgatory and thinks he's God. We need to get them out of him before he does something stupid like kill everyone on the planet." Gaia sat in silence, an expression of utter disbelief crossing her face. She turned to Sam, raising an eyebrow when he nodded in confirmation. She leaned forward, raising one finger.

"One problem: nobody knows where Purgatory is." Dean leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, sighing.

"To make a long story short, he found it. He was working with the King of Hell." Gaia threw her hands up in the air and muttered under her breath in what Dean assumed was Greek, shooting a glare at the young waitress eavesdropping while pretending to wipe down the tables next to them. She spoke when the young woman scurried to a table farther away.

"You honestly expect me to believe that an _angel_ not only allied with the King of Hell, but challenged the authority of the Christian god?" Dean opened his mouth to speak, but stopped short; a sudden memory of Cas leapt into his mind, the sickening moment when he slid the blade out of his own back with an unnerving, inhuman smile. The exact moment when there wasn't any more hope of going back. Sam leaned forward, taking over when he sensed his brother's hesitation.

"Yes. We were there when it happened. It got pretty ugly." Gaia sat back in her chair. Dean wished she'd had the decency to not look impressed.

"I mean, I know they're capable of some shady crap when they put their minds to it, but angels are some of the most gung-ho sons of bitches out there when it comes to their daddy. I've yet to meet one that wasn't a sanctimonious prick." Sam cocked his head and raised a significant eyebrow at Dean, who nodded back. That was new. The pantheons tended not to mingle if they didn't have to. _Freakin' gods. Bunch of snobby bitches._

"So you've dealt with them before." Gaia rolled her eyes impatiently and took another drink.

"Every couple decades. My move to America didn't help. Apparently my sinful ways don't jive with God's teachings. I spend too much time encouraging premarital sex and promoting the idea that women are equal to men." She laughed humorlessly.

"Honestly, they're useless without someone to order them around. Idiots couldn't even pull off the Apocalypse, which is a piece of cake. Open the gates of Hell, sit back, get a drink. Not that hard." Dean narrowed his eyes and bit back a surge of anger as Gaia saluted him with her beer.

"The Apocalypse failed because we stopped it. Me and Sam and Cas." Dean paused, eyeing her carefully. She stared right back. "Ever dealt with him before? Castiel? Angel of Thursday?"

Gaia's expression changed, so subtly Dean wasn't entirely sure he hadn't imagined it; a slight tightening around the jaw and mouth that she tried to hide behind another sip of beer. Dean narrowed his eyes. It had been too quick to tell exactly what that expression had been. He glanced at Sam, who gave him the tiniest of nods; he'd seen it too.

"I've heard the name before." Gaia drained the last of her glass and set it down with a hollow thunk, staring thoughtfully into space.

The silence before she spoke again vibrated with anticipation. Dean leaned forward, stealing a glance at Sam; he was just as tense as his brother was. This woman was the only chance they had, and she seemed on the verge of being convinced. It was time to tread lightly. They couldn't afford to lose her. When she finally spoke, Dean released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"So what you're telling me is that because Christianity can't handle its own shit, you need me to come in, kick some ass, save the world, and potentially get smote off this plane of reality in the process. All practically by myself, since all I've got for backup are two humans with pea shooters." She looked him straight in the eye, but there was a trace of a smile on her face. Dean nodded, still slightly jittery from nerves.

"Pretty much, yeah. Although we're hoping you may be able to pull a few favors with some of your family. We'll need everyone we can get." Gaia sighed and stood, slinging her purse over her shoulder and zipping her jacket.

"I'll ask around. Where are you staying?"

"The Motel 8, room 237."

"I'll meet you there tomorrow morning. We'll call it seven AM. In the meantime, I have to see a man about a euphemism." She walked around Sam, headed towards the crowd at the bar. After a few steps she did a sudden about-face and walked back to the table, fishing in her purse. Dean quickly traded a what-the-hell look with an equally confused Sam.

"By the way, wrap it up should you take any of the ladies here home tonight." Gaia gave a short victorious laugh and revealed several condoms in her hand, which she tossed onto the table. "For some strange reason the conception rates skyrocket when I'm in the vicinity. Fertility goddess thing. Have a nice night, boys." Slapping Dean on the shoulder and winking at Sam, she turned on her heel and dashed off again.

* * *

The only sound in the house was the soft swish of a page turning.

The room was lit with what little moonlight could make it through the curtains as Gaia sat in bed reading. The man next to her slept soundly, as he always did when he spent the night. Alan was a regular, and one of very few mortals she had ever intentionally revealed herself to.

The secrecy was more for their sake than hers, for the most part; while it hadn't been hard to convince them that gods and goddesses walked the Earth as little as a millennium ago, they'd grown skeptical in the last few centuries. Alan was one of a dozen who had not run screaming when she had proved herself to be divine. She ran a hand through his sandy hair and smiled as he rolled closer, burying his face in her waist and groaning.

"If you keep that up I'm not gonna be getting any sleep tonight, honey. I need to work tomorrow." He lifted his head and blinked sleepily, and then yelped in surprise. Gaia laughed and then covered her eyes with her hand. Most of them, anyways; they were about twice their usual size.

"Sorry, sorry. I didn't want to turn on the light and wake you."

"So you made your eyes all huge?" With a brief moment of concentration, Gaia's eyes shrank back to normal. She blinked a few times as they readjusted to the light and then slid down in the bed, laying her head on Alan's shoulder.

"It works for the lorises. Bigger eyes catch more light, makes it easier to see in the dark." She dragged a finger down his chest, enjoying the shiver it caused. "Are we going to get a little more hands-on with this biology lesson or do you really need to-" A sharp rapping at the front door interrupted her, and they both sat straight up.

"What the _hell_ was that?" Gaia was up and out the door before Alan could finish the sentence, dressing with superhuman haste. She pulled on her leather jacket as she crept down the hall, listening carefully for any sounds of movement outside the house.

It couldn't have been another god, or one of the more malicious creatures that occasionally stalked the woods around her house; she would have felt their presence thanks to the layers upon layers of spells she'd laid for miles around. She'd taken great pains to conceal her presence, to the point that not even Alan knew exactly where she lived. She took him home by a different route every time, and had on occasion wiped a few details from his memory. She hated doing it, but it was that or have half the supernatural world on her doorstep. She didn't even let members of her own pantheon visit, now that they'd found her.

"Gaia? What's going on?"

"I don't know. Stay back." With a quick flick of her wrist, a dagger dropped from her sleeve and into her hand. The knock sounded again, more urgently this time, and she peered out the curtained window to the side of the door, gasping in surprise at the figure she saw sagging against the doorframe. _It can't be. I haven't seen him in centuries._ She swung the door open.

"Hector?" The tiny daemon was shaking, blood streaming from a wound in his side. He clutched at it with one hand, the other struggling to grip a blood-soaked rucksack. Gaia scooped him up and carried him into the living room, setting him gently on the couch. She turned to Alan, who was gaping from the doorway.

"Alan, close the door and get the first-aid kit from the bathroom. Hurry, please. " Hector put a hand on her arm and shook his head.

"I am already on my way to Elysium, Earth Mother. Do not fear for me." He paused for a second to draw a horrible, rasping breath before continuing. "There are angels in the city, my lady. Two of them."

"How do you know?" Hector coughed hard, leaking blood from the corners of his mouth.

"I saw them. I was the one who sent the Winchesters here, and as they seem to need as much assistance as they can get I followed them. To keep an eye on them in case of trouble." Alan returned with the first-aid kit and knelt by the couch, grimacing at the large pool of blood that had gathered on the floor. Hector looked at him and nodded his thanks, the movement causing him to flinch in pain. Gaia took his hand in hers.

"Do you have any idea why they're here?"

"They are here to kill you, Earth Mother. They spoke as if praying, saying that they had found what the boys were looking for and would soon take care of it. I can only assume that they were speaking to the angel Castiel. They will come here and kill you, and then take the Winchesters. To where, I do not know. One of them saw me hiding and stabbed me with this." He reached into the sack by his side and pulled out a long, shining length of metal: an angel blade. Gaia took it from him and handed it carefully to Alan, who set it on the floor. He turned back to Hector, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You ran here clear from town with that thing in your side?" Hector gave a short, barking laugh and fixed Alan with an unnerving stare.

"I am capable of far more than you imagine, human." His head fell back onto the couch cushions and he took a shuddering breath. "It is almost my time, my lady. Be careful, for the angels are coming as we speak." Gaia slid an arm under his shoulders and helped him sit up. He leaned against her, resting his head on her shoulder, his breathing quick and shallow.

"Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable, Hector?"

"No, thank you. Knowing that I will die in the arms of a friend is enough." He shut his eyes, his head falling forward limply, and was gone within seconds. Gaia laid him down gently, closing his eyes before Alan covered him with one of the blankets from the back of the sofa.

A sudden burst of energy in the yard hit Gaia's mind like a thunderbolt; an angel had arrived. She turned to Alan, who was still contemplating the unmoving form on the couch.

"I'm so sorry, but you have to leave. I can't fight it if I'm worrying about you too." He stared at her for a second before wrapping an arm around her waist.

"Let me know you're okay, once you've kicked its ass." Giving him a half-hearted smile, she pressed two fingers to his forehead and _flexed_ , willing him back to his own house. Hopefully the angel hadn't sensed his presence, or wouldn't consider it important if it had. In any case, it would likely have other things on its mind, like trying to kill her.

She could see the angel through the window, gazing disinterestedly at the house and surrounding woods. It had taken a male vessel; tall, blonde, Slavic by the look of him. She scoffed; he looked like he'd walked straight out of a Cold War hit man movie. _Angels. Couldn't be more unimaginative if they tried._

She picked up the angelic sword. It was heavier than it looked, and so large that she could barely wrap her hand around the hilt. No matter. With every step she took towards the door she grew another fraction of an inch in height, the muscles in her arms and legs bulking and tensing in preparation. The sword was easy enough to handle by the time she stepped through the door onto the lawn, a full six inches taller and considerably more muscular than she'd been at the beginning of the evening. The angel swept her with an appraising look before motioning to the sword in her hand.

"That is mine." His voice was impossibly deep. Gaia narrowed her eyes and took a step forward, all senses on high alert; Hector had said there were two of them, and she wouldn't put it past the bastards to try an ambush.

"Is that so?" He nodded once, solemnly. She swung it in her hand experimentally, her eyes never leaving his face. "Strange, I found it buried between the ribs of a good friend of mine. Finders, keepers, yeah?"

"If you look closely, heretic, you will find that it belongs to Seraphiel. It is a shame that your little friend is so very fast. It would have been his heart had he not run." Gaia bit back an enraged growl and edged closer, still listening for signs of attack behind her. The angel smiled coldly. "Do not worry, pagan. I am all you will have to deal with tonight. If you give me my sword I will even make it quick."

"Not a chance, asshole." Gaia lunged forward and struck, but the angel vanished and she stabbed through empty space. She reached out with her senses and felt him approaching from her left, dodging what would have been a devastating blow to the back of her head. She slashed at him quickly, her arms vibrating with the impact every time he blocked an attack with an impossibly thick forearm. Every instinct and lesson she'd learned from millennia of war came flooding back. _You may not be as strong, but you're quick. Stay on your feet. Breathe._

Seeing an opening, she jabbed at his left side. The blade of the sword clipped his ribs and he growled, twisting around and wrapping both massive hands around the hilt of the blade. He forced the sword around slowly, the angle almost breaking her wrists, and leaned into it. The tip pierced the flesh just above her heart and she screamed, trying desperately to turn the blade away. She wasn't entirely sure how much longer she could match Seraphiel's strength.

He pulled back suddenly, leaving her off balance and reeling as the sword's sharp point slashed across her collarbones. Before she could recover he planted a huge, booted foot in the middle of her chest and sent her flying across the yard. She felt several of her ribs splinter as she hit the ground and slid through the dead grass.

"I told you I can make it easy, woman. Stand still and we will be finished." Gaia rolled to her feet unsteadily and glared at him, trying to catch her breath. Seraphiel laughed and began to stride towards her.

Ignoring the pain burning across her chest and in her side, Gaia reached up and behind with her right hand into the ether. Her bow had already materialized in her left hand as she pulled the arrow from nothing, nocking it by muscle memory alone. Surprise had barely registered on Seraphiel's face before she let fly, hitting him square in the right shoulder. He dropped the sword and stumbled backward, jerking the arrow out and pressing a hand to the ragged, glowing hole in his chest. In the space of a heartbeat Gaia was standing a few feet in front of him, another arrow ready.

"Like I said: not a chance, motherfucker." Seeing him glance at his sword, she drew the bow and aimed it carefully. Her hands trembled slightly with effort; her ribs were screaming at the strain of pulling on the bowstring.

"Next one goes through your forehead." She had barely finished the sentence before he disappeared with a soft flap of feathers. She relaxed the bow and closed her eyes for a few seconds, the cut across her chest and her fractured ribs throbbing with every breath. She could track the angel's path, the energy leaking from his wounds lighting up the night like a neon sign. He hadn't gone far at all. Her eyes snapped open suddenly when she realized his destination. _Sam and Dean._

She snatched the angelic sword and stuck it in her belt, and then vanished after him.


	4. Chapter 4

Metatron leaned against the hood of the Winchesters' Impala, writing up an account of the hunt for the Lord. He had insisted from the very beginning of his reign that at least two angels kept watch on the Winchesters at all times, and that they be spared the wrath that the choirs had been permitted to rain down upon the faithless despite their obvious plots to usurp Him. Metatron did not understand her Lord's fascination with these two particular humans, but orders were orders and she meant to follow them to the letter; they were to be watched and recorded at all times, and when Seraphiel had returned from eliminating the false goddess they were to be taken, unharmed, to the Lord Himself.

Tracking the humans had been easy enough; she and Seraphiel had simply followed them from South Dakota to Georgia, making sure that they had the brothers in sight at all times. The Enochian markings on their ribcages proved troublesome once they'd left their car and proceeded on foot as neither Metatron nor Seraphiel could sense their presence, but the Lord had been correct in predicting their movements; a quick check of every bar and pub in the city had revealed them to be in an establishment called 'The Globe'.

Finding out what they were after had been considerably more difficult; they could not be sure that the being the humans were meeting wouldn't sense them, and the Winchesters had seen enough angels to recognize them by their behavior should they manifest in person. The solution ended up being simpler than Metatron had imagined; Seraphiel simply threatened the waitress, who recounted as much of the strange conversation as she could remember overhearing. It had been more than enough information for a simple locating spell, although they had run into problems there as well; they could find no more specifics than a large patch of forest, all of which was covered by unfamiliar magic. They would have to search personally.

She had not accompanied Seraphiel to the little shack in the woods where the pagan resided, once they'd found it; if Lucifer's conflict with the heretic gathering during the Apocalypse was indicative of the strength of the non-Christian divinities, a single nonbeliever -- and a fertility goddess, at that -- would be easy enough for the vicious seraph to handle on his own. He was brutal, but Seraphiel was thorough in his work.

She had expected him back sooner, however. Noting the time on her watch, she briefly considered going to find the bloodthirsty idiot; she'd told him to be back by three-thirty AM at the latest, and it was now nearly four. Knowing Seraphiel he was more than likely taking his time in retrieving his sword, particularly if it was still embedded in the little imp that had been spying on them.

A flap of wings in front of her alerted her to the presence of another angel. _3:58 AM, Seraphiel arrives,_ she noted on her clipboard.

"You're late, Seraphiel." She looked up and raised an eyebrow at his state. His grace shone through a gaping wound in his shoulder and a slash on his ribcage, and he was bloodied and bruised. "Had some difficulty, I take it?"

"She was stronger than we expected. I could not kill her." Metatron sighed in frustration and tucked her clipboard under her arm.

"We do not have time to deal with her right now. We have been ordered to remove the Winchesters to a safer location at once." Seraphiel nodded, and within milliseconds they were standing in a darkened hotel room, gazing at two sleeping forms. Seraphiel grimaced in disgust.

"What is so very special about these two...animals?" He edged around the bed and leaned in to inspect one of them. Dean, Metatron thought, checking her notes for a physical description to confirm. "They have no powers. They are no different than any of the billions of other creatures on this planet. They actively plot against our Lord and yet they are shown mercy beyond any other. I do not understand." Metatron rolled her eyes and stepped forwards to stand beside him.

"Even the Lord has his pets, I suppose. It is not ours to question." A sudden noise behind them made her turn. The other human had woken up, and was blinking stupidly at them. Seraphiel was on him in an instant, hauling him up by the collar of his shirt and immobilizing him before he could fully awaken. Metatron raised an eyebrow, amused. Their reflexes really were pathetically slow.

"Dean! Dean, wake up!" Dean was standing with his gun in his hand almost immediately, his face visible in the glow emanating from Seraphiel. His eyes were wide and terrified, and she noted his quick, furtive glances towards Seraphiel, trying to assess his brother’s health and condition. He would not gather much information; his eyes had not yet adjusted to the levels of light in the room. He would be partially blinded until they did.

"Who the hell are you?" Metatron smiled and stepped forward.

"I am Metatron, scribe of the Lord. This is Seraphiel, commander of the seraphs and the most powerful of that choir. Our Lord has commanded that you be taken to him immediately. Do not fear, you will not be-" Metatron was cut off as an arrow whizzed past her face, embedding itself deep into the wall. Dean ducked behind the bed as she whirled around, drawing her sword, and faced her attacker.

It was the pagan. Covered in dirt and bleeding profusely from a cut on her chest, she stood with a bow at the ready. In the dim light Metatron could see Seraphiel's blade tucked into her belt. It gleamed as she reached over her shoulder to draw another arrow, nocking it with a practiced hand.

"Leave the humans alone." Metatron approached slowly, wary of the silver arrowhead pointed her direction; she could feel its magic even at a distance. It was more than likely what had injured Seraphiel so grievously.

"Or what, witch? You'll kill me? That bow may be powerful but it cannot kill an angel. And you are facing two." The woman smirked and lowered the bow, and Metatron noted with some confusion that it appeared to drop out of existence altogether at the wielder's will; there were not many beings capable of that kind of matter manipulation. Clearly this one was, indeed, more powerful than they had originally thought. The woman drew the sword, gesturing with it towards Seraphiel.

"More like one and a quarter. I kicked his ass a few minutes ago, and I wouldn't be against giving it another shot." Seraphiel growled from the other side of the room, but neither Metatron nor the woman flinched. A few seconds passed in silence as they stared each other down.

"Leave now, without the Winchesters, and you might--might--get back to Heaven in one piece." Metatron felt physical anger boiling up through her vessel at the heathen's arrogance. She narrowed her eyes, her voice dropping in pitch and rumbling through the room like a peal of thunder.

"Watch your words, woman. I have been given orders to smite you here and now." Metatron drew in a breath and gathered her power, her eyes beginning to glow white with holy flame. The pagan was drawing up her own energy, chanting under her breath, emanating a pulsing golden aura that seemed to be gathering at the tip of Seraphiel's sword. Metatron heard Sam struggling with Seraphiel behind her, trying to get away and duck for cover from what was likely to be a devastating blast. Seraphiel simply laughed, giving Sam a violent shake and dragging him forward. Metatron raised her right hand, teeth bared.

Suddenly, a small movement near one of the nightstands caught her eye.

"Smite this, bitch." Metatron whirled to face Dean, who was kneeling on the floor next to the wall. One bloodstained hand was cradled to his chest, while the other hovered over a smeared mark on the wallpaper: the banishing sigil.

"NO!" She lunged for him, but it was too late; he slammed his hand onto it, and she and Seraphiel were both flung from the Earth, screaming angrily into space.

~~~

"Sam? You okay?" Dean opened his eyes carefully, peering over the bed. He scanned the area quickly, then leapt up and switched on the light. Sam staggered to his feet a few yards away, gasping slightly. A reddened mark blossomed around his neck where Seraphiel's arm had been wrapped around it moments before. He coughed, hard, and looked up, his eyes widening in alarm.

"I'm fine. We're still screwed, though." He pushed past Dean and jogged towards the front of the room. Dean spun on his heel, cursing. Gaia was still glowing, her aura pulsing and spreading as she shook violently from head to toe. Worse, the room was beginning to vibrate. Sam was standing off to the side, his hands out pleadingly, trying to talk her down.

"Gaia, the angels are gone. You can stop now." When she didn't immediately reply, Dean stepped forward, ready to grab Sam and run should the goddess hit critical mass. She tightened her grip on the sword, struggling to hold onto it, jaw clenched. Dean shared a panicked look with Sam.

"Look, I don't know what kind of Chernobyl crap you're about to pull, but-" Gaia's eyes snapped from their focus on the point of energy at the end of the sword to lock with Dean's. He immediately froze.

" _Dean. Shut up._ " Her voice echoed strangely, as if it were coming from another room altogether. He stood, mesmerized; there was a frightening, shimmering depth to her eyes, her presence so powerful it landed almost like a physical blow. Both brothers retreated several steps instinctively. Dean never broke eye contact; he didn't think he could have if he wanted to. The thing that was glaring back at him at that moment, whatever it was, was not in any way human.

The room gave another shudder and Gaia's aura contracted sharply, the energy leaping into her chest like a spark of electricity. She dropped the angel blade as though it had burned her, and it hit the floor with a loud clang. She shone for several more moments, holding out a hand as if to warn Sam and Dean away. Dean backed up several steps. _You don't have to tell me twice, sister._ Finally, mercifully, the energy seemed to fade completely, leaving her standing shakily in front of them, looking around slowly as though not quite sure where she was.

The hotel room was silent for a moment until Gaia sagged and fell to her knees. Sam rushed over and knelt beside her, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder. She turned to Sam and gave him a half-smile. He returned it and then looked up at Dean, eyebrows raised. For all intents and purposes, she was apparently completely human in appearance. Gaia finally broke the silence.

"Sorry. I'm an old lady. Putting the brakes on that particular piece of voodoo takes a bit more effort than it used to." She panted for a minute before looking up at Dean, waving a hand at the sigil painted on the wall. He turned away as if to look at it, to hide the suspicion and fear he was sure was still plain on his face at the moment.

"You couldn't have done that crap a bit sooner?" Dean began walking around the room, collecting various items and shoveling them into a duffel bag as quickly as possible.

"Yeah, I'll remember that the next time I have to cut my own hand open without attracting attention. We need to move, they'll be back soon." Out of the corner of his eye he saw her double over, one fist clenched tightly against her side in pain. "You okay?"

"That blonde son of a bitch broke my ribs. Nothing I can't fix." Gaia straightened up with Sam's help, and placed a shaking hand flat on her right side. Dean could hear the bones crackle and snap into place from across the room, and winced in sympathy. She was standing by the time he had gathered all their belongings and tossed Sam one of the bags. Gaia picked up the angel blade and motioned towards the door.

"We can go to my place. I'll put some better spells up and wipe it off the map, we should be relatively safe there for a while." Dean nodded and tossed her one of the towels from the bathroom.

"No blood on the upholstery." He walked to the door and jerked it open, blinking in surprise when it stopped after a few inches; the chain-lock was still engaged. Unlocking it quickly, he jogged down to the car and threw his bag in the trunk. His vision suddenly shimmered and he had to grab the car for support. Looking over his shoulder, he saw Gaia supporting Sam, who was blinking rapidly at her in confusion.

"What the hell did you do?" She turned her gaze on him, and his heart skipped a few dozen beats again. Rather than the terrifying, infinitely deep pools of power (and other things he had no desire to think about) that they'd been minutes ago, they were ringed with exhaustion and stress. Old. _The same way Cas looked at the end,_ he realized with a pang.

He swallowed thickly and began rummaging in the trunk, locking down the memory that sprang to mind of Cas standing across from him in Lisa's hospital room. _You just wanted to fix what you could. You're not the only one, Cas._ He was startled out of his thoughts by Gaia's face appearing in his view; she was standing next to him, leaning into the trunk.

"The car is invisible to all eyes except ours. As soon as we're in it we'll disappear. We need to get going though, I don't know how long I'll be able to keep it that way." She walked to the door and climbed into the back seat. Dean watched her carefully, turning to Sam when she was inside and out of earshot.

"What the hell happened in there?" Sam glanced towards the car, brow furrowed in thought. Gaia was slumped in the back of the car, looking as though she might fall asleep. Sam sighed, ruffling his hair.

"I have no idea. There's not much that's got the juice for that kind of showing." Dean slammed the trunk shut and sat on it, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Exactly my point. We don't know what she is. Clearly she's capable of some pretty scary shit, and we've got nothing that can take her down. She could be working for him, or...I dunno, planning on eating us herself for all we know. We could be lining a gyro the minute we walk into that house. I'm serious, Sam," he growled at his brother's badly-concealed chuckle. "We don't know what kind of freaky crap this bitch is into." Sam rubbed his temples with a thumb and forefinger and joined Dean on the trunk.

"I dunno, Dean. Remember Kali? She pulled some pretty freaky crap herself, and she didn't end up being all bad." Dean scoffed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"I think we're in over our heads here, Sam." Sam was silent a moment, scuffing at a pebble with the tip of his boot.

"Dean, we've been in over our heads since day one on this one. And she's all we've got against Cas." Sam sighed, ruffling his hair. "I think our only option is to trust her, at this point. What else is there?" Dean silently ran through every possibility in his head and came up short. He hung his head for a few silent seconds and then stood.

"You're right. Without her we've got nothing." He glanced over his shoulder and narrowed his eyes; she was moving around. "We should keep an eye on her, though. Better safe than dead." Sam raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly.

"Yeah, I guess." He slapped Dean's shoulder playfully as they stood up.

"Hey, is it just me, or did she get bigger? She was half a head shorter than you in the bar, but now I think she's taller than you." Dean glared at his brother and shook his head as he rounded the Impala toward the driver's side.

"Is not. No way"

"Is so."

Dean sneaked a few appraising glances into the backseat during the ride under the guise of adjusting the rearview mirror, nearly failing to hide his scowl of disgust when, about halfway down the road, he realized that Sam was right. _Freakin' gods._

~~~

"Nice digs." Dean examined the house closely as he and Sam followed Gaia in, silently checking behind the doors and around the corners out of habit. The place was rickety and just on the verge of disrepair, with peeling paint and shutters hanging by a single screw. Books and magazines were stacked everywhere, along with various bits of pottery, statues, and the odd dagger or two.

A wide, arched door at the end of the hall led into a slightly cluttered kitchen. An ancient-looking jug stood, uncorked, on the end of the counter. Could be holy oil, he noted. Then again, Gaia was Greek, and the oil was supposed to be rare; it was unlikely that she had a secret hoard of the stuff anywhere, and he wasn't much for telling one old-ass jug apart from another. Probably just her ouzo stash. Sam called his name from down the hall.

"Uh, Dean? Get in here." He dropped his duffel in the hallway and walked into what appeared to be the living room. He almost ran into Sam, who was standing in the doorway, blocking most of the room from view. Dean nudged him out of the way, shooting him an annoyed look, which was returned with a frown.

He stopped short at the sight of what was clearly a body underneath a blanket on the couch. A pool of blood ( _Too small to be an adult, gotta be a kid, what the hell is she doing with a dead kid in here?_ ) was already drying on the floor. Gaia stood over it, a hand tangled in her hair. Dean stepped around his brother and edged closer, pointing at the figure.

"Who's this?" Gaia looked up suddenly, as if she'd forgotten they were there. She looked at Dean a moment, and then Sam, before leaning forward and flipping the edge of the blanket down.

"Mutual friend." Dean felt himself recoil in shock at the pale face that was revealed. Hector. He was almost completely colorless, his dark eyes half-closed and dull. "He followed you guys from...wherever the hell you came from, thinking you might need some help." Her voice was rougher than it had been before, and she had to clear her throat before continuing.

"At some point he saw the angels, and tried to follow them, I think. Or they found him while he was following you. He was never really clear on that point. Either way, Seraphiel stabbed him, and he ran here to tell me they were coming." She was silent a moment. "He was one of my oldest friends. I don't have a lot of those."

She closed her eyes tightly for a moment, struggling to compose herself, and Dean had to look away. He turned towards Sam, who was looking down at Hector, his hands folded across his chest. After a long, tense moment Gaia perched on the edge of the couch next to Hector, and Dean crouched next to her, Sam settling onto the arm of the couch. Dean pressed a fist to his lips and crouched stiffly.

"Gaia, I am so sorry. This was our fault." She shook her head and settled a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. She was shaking slightly; to his surprise she was laughing, wiping away tears as she did so.

"Dean, he's a daemon. This is what they do. And he was particularly good at it." She smoothed Hector's hair down before covering him back up. "I assume, since you're hunters, that you know how to dig a decent grave?" Sam stood and began rolling up his sleeves.

"Yeah, we're pretty good at that." Gaia looked at him thoughtfully for several seconds before standing, striding past them both towards the door.

"Good. About seventy-five yards due south is a cypress grove. There's a few shovels in the shed out back. I'll be out in a few minutes."

~~~

The jug on the counter, as it turned out, contained not holy oil but honey mead.

"Seriously, though. It was all Zeus would eat as a baby. The whole time we were in Crete it was all honey, all the time. No wonder that kid grew up to be a nutcase." She poured herself another glass of mead and drank most of it in one swallow.

Sam was impressed; despite the beating she'd taken at the hands of the angels earlier in the evening, and her apparent exhaustion, she'd put away more than half the jug by herself and didn't appear to be anything more than slightly buzzed. He'd begun to wonder if it was even possible for her to be completely drunk at all. He'd had a quick whispered conversation with Dean at one point when she'd gone to change her bloodstained clothes; dangerous potential double-agent or not, slightly buzzed and grieving was preferable to thermonuclear. And at least they'd gotten the funeral out of the way.

He and Dean had been out in the middle of the cypress grove putting the finishing touches on the grave when she'd appeared beside it noiselessly, holding Hector in her arms, surprising them both. It hadn't taken them long to dig; Hector was maybe four feet tall at the most, and they were very good at grave-digging.

The grave was small enough that only one person could fit into it at a time. Sam had had to hold Hector while Gaia climbed down -- she'd insisted on arranging him herself -- before gently handing the small shrouded body down to her. He and Dean had knelt at the edge and watched, unsure of whether an offer of help would be welcomed.

Sam had read a bit about ancient Greek funerals back in high school. He knew that the coin ( _Holy shit that was probably an actual ancient drachma,_ he would realize on the way back to the house, feeling pretty guilty at the amount of giddiness that thought caused) was meant to pay the ferryman Charon to take Hector across the Styx, and that often the tombs were found to have jars full of food and drink within them. But it wasn't until Gaia began the funerary rite in earnest that he realized exactly how much he didn't know. She rocked over Hector, singing a soft, wailing song in what he assumed was Greek, tugging at her hair hard enough to pull handfuls of it out.

He'd glanced over at Dean, who had quirked an eyebrow but thankfully stayed silent; even his threshold for smartassed comments had been reached for the night. And as bizarre as the entire thing was...it was still a funeral. Hector had been a decent little guy, if a weird one. He didn't deserve any disrespect.

Eventually she quieted and crowned him with a wreath of leaves she produced from one of her pockets, before finally performing a complicated movement that may have been a dance and may have been a stumble. She stood, and Dean lifted her out of the grave easily. Filling it in had taken even less time than digging it had, and Sam had managed to find a flat, smooth rock to serve as a headstone. Gaia lay her hand on it and closed her eyes. Thinking for a minute, she opened one eye and turned towards Sam and Dean.

"Is there anything you would like to put?" Sam rocked back on his heels, taken aback. He glanced at Dean, who shook his head, and then looked back at Gaia.

"You knew him better than we did." She nodded and turned back to the stone. There was a brief creak and scraping sound like rock on rock, and when she removed her hand a cluster of characters was inscribed into the smooth face. Sam walked over and looked at it. The words were completely incomprehensible.

“What does it say?“

“It’s just his name.“ She ran a hand through he hair, which was sticking up in wild tufts. "Gods, I need a drink." She began walking towards the house, Sam and Dean following closely behind. Several seconds later she stopped suddenly, and Sam narrowly avoided bowling her over.

She turned slowly and stepped around him, narrowing her eyes in concentration. Sam felt the hair on his arms prickle; energy was building as it had in the hotel room, but this was different somehow, less threatening. Her hand was extended towards the grave, palm down, the earth buzzing beneath their feet.

Suddenly dozens of bright green stems sprouted through the freshly-turned soil . They grew rapidly, each expanding and thickening until they exploded into bright red blossoms. Most of the little mound was covered within seconds. Gaia lowered her hand, a single tear tracking down her cheek. Sam released a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, and looked back at her.

"Are those..."

"Poppies. Sacred to Morpheus, giver of dreams." She stared at the headstone. "They're supposed to ease pain and keep nightmares away."

She had turned and walked straight back into the house then, disappearing for several minutes while the Winchesters loitered uncertainly in the kitchen. By the time she returned they had been on the verge of going back out to the Impala and making a run for it, unsure as to whether a grief-stricken goddess with what was already a seemingly shaky grasp on her own mojo was a bit too much of a safety hazard to risk staying what was left of the night. She had returned before a consensus was reached, however, and it was at that point that the mead had been uncorked.

"So how did you meet Hector, anyways? I assume it was a bit of an epic friendship, considering you guys are both pretty long-lived compared to the rest of us." Sam backpedaled at the sight of an upraised eyebrow across the table. "No offense."

"None taken. How up are you guys on your Greek history?" A mutual shrug went round the table as Sam mentally tallied his and Dean’s collective high school history lessons. It wasn’t looking promising.

"Not very." Gaia rolled her eyes. She was busily winding her hair into a loose, haphazard bun at the nape of her neck, having apparently given up on brushing it several minutes before. It was still sticking out in odd places, but was much less unnerving than the bushy mess it’d been in the forest.

"Can I assume you've at least heard of the Trojan War? Helen of Troy?" Dean leaned forward, hands in a familiar _I got this, bro,_ pose. Sam rolled his eyes and drained his glass.

"Trojan prince kidnaps a hot Greek princess, all hell breaks loose, send in the big wooden horse?" Dean smiled with satisfaction as Gaia saluted him with her glass sarcastically.

"Reductive and simplistic, but yes, that's the gist. I was there for the whole thing, as was Hector." Sam cocked an eyebrow at Gaia, who cocked one back at him playfully.

"...really?” Gaia nodded her head deeply. Sam sat back in his chair, impressed. “No shit. So he-- Hector, our Hector, I mean...

"...is what’s left of Hector of Troy, one of the greatest warriors known to man? Yes." Sam simply stared, dumbfounded. When neither of her guests spoke again, Gaia continued, settling into her chair, her eyes unfocusing slightly as she reached into her memory.

"To keep it short: Helen of Troy is my great-granddaughter, daughter of Zeus and Leda. As in, _Leda and the Swan_. I was pissed off about the whole Troy situation; she’d been kidnapped and the Trojans were treating her like shit. I showed up in the capital to see what I could do about getting her out. Turns out the whole thing was some sort of _meant to be_ bullshit, so there was nothing I could do except stick around and make it as easy for her as I could.

“Hector was one of the only people who was kind to her through the whole ordeal, and I gave him every blessing I could offer because of it. He was one of the most respected and honorable men in Troy. When he died I buried him myself, and then I pleaded with Hades to allow him entry into Elysium despite the fact that he wasn't Greek.

“But of course, being the Boy Scout that he is, eons of partying got boring and he asked to be put to work. Next thing you know he‘s a daemon, off doing charitable works and getting his dumb ass stabbed by angels." She stared into the wood of the tabletop, face tight. "Never thought I'd be burying him a second time."

A long, uncomfortable silence stretched between the three of them. Gaia slid two fingers along her hairline, and Sam winced at the memory of her pulling out her own hair. He had to wonder what the funeral had been like the last time Hector had died; probably way more bizarre and elaborate. Gaia was probably limited by time and lack of supplies here. Before he could think of anything to say, she spoke again.

"Speaking of Hades, I've been thinking about how exactly we might go about taking care of that angel of yours." Sam didn't even have to look at Dean to know that Gaia had his full attention; despite his best efforts to act like his usual self, Sam knew just how profoundly Dean was hurting. He couldn't quite bring himself to look over and discover exactly what his brother was thinking. Instead, he examined his glass as Dean spoke up.

"How's that?"

"Hades isn't the only god living in the underworld. You've got his wife Persephone, goddess of rebirth..." Gaia began ticking names off on her fingers. "...Hecate, queen of witches and crossroads, Hypnos, the god of sleep, and Thanatos, who is Death himself." Sam frowned at her, confused. _No wonder these guys got taken over. Too many freakin' gods to keep straight._

"I thought Hades was Death himself." Gaia shook a finger at him, almost spilling her mead on herself in the process.

"Mmmph. No. Hades is Lord of all the Underworld. _Thanatos_ is Death. Kind of like the difference between, say, Satan and the Grim Reaper." Gaia set her drink down well away from the edge and continued, waving the thought away.

"Anyways, my point is this: Thanatos had a knife that he used to extract the souls of the dead that he was sent to bring to the Underworld. Now, ironically, he's been dead himself for quite a while, but Hades has the knife. Or if he doesn't, he knows where it is." She paused, making sure Sam and Dean were following.

"If we can convince him to hand it over, we may be able to use it to get the souls out of Castiel without causing him a whole lot of damage." Sam finally shifted his glance to Dean, who stood up, pointedly avoiding having to meet his brother’s eyes.

"Sounds like a plan to me. So how do we get to the Underworld?” Gaia hesitated, looking completely uncertain for the first time since they'd met her in the bar. She looked between Sam and Dean quickly, as though worried about their reaction.

"Well, here's the thing..." She paused, and Sam gestured impatiently for her to continue.

"What? What's the thing?" Gaia sighed, chagrined, then leaned forward as if bracing herself.

"There's no 'we'. I'm not taking you."


	5. Chapter 5

_Gods, but these children are thick._

“What part, exactly, of ‘I will not be taking you with me to the Underworld’ are you not capable of comprehending? Am forgetting to speak in English again?” Gaia glared at Dean in frustration as he paced the kitchen in front of her, anger rolling off him. Sam stood farther back, slightly more controlled, but just as upset.

They’d spent the last half-hour loudly arguing back and forth over her refusal to let them accompany her into Hades’ realm. Gaia had been prepared for some objection on Sam and Dean’s part; they didn’t seem like the type to simply sit back and let others do their work for them. Which was understandable; she personally held more than her share of that sentiment.

She wasn’t entirely sure where the outright fury was coming from, however; they’d asked for her help, and she was giving it to them in the least risky way she could think of. Hades had no control over her ability to enter and leave the Underworld as she wished, but Sam and Dean? Intentionally bringing living mortals into the Underworld was just about the stupidest idea she’d ever been presented with in her life. That moron Orpheus had been damned lucky to get out at all, in her opinion.

“Guys, it’s pretty simple. I stroll in, I ask Hades for the knife, I get the knife, I come back, we move on. I’m not seeing the problem with this plan at all.” She shot each man an irritated look in turn, daring them to try and find fault. To her profound annoyance, Sam stepped forward.

“What if something happens to you? What if you need back-up? We can help you. There’s no need for you to go by yourself.” She groaned under her breath, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers.

“We’ve been over this, Sam. You guys are _mortals_. Your knowledge of our magic is approximately jack over shit. You’d never get past the Styx in one piece, never mind getting anything worthwhile out of Hades. There’s not a hell of a lot you can do to help me down there and you know it.” She cocked her head and eyed the brothers. “Which makes me wonder what the real reason is for you not wanting to let me go alone.”

Sam and Dean both stood with arms obstinately crossed, doing their best to put up a united, intimidating front. Gaia stood up straighter and planted her feet, hands on her hips; she still had the extra height and muscle she’d given herself before the fight with Seraphiel, placing her almost exactly at eye level with the two of them. If they wanted to play chicken, then she was damned well game. There were a few seconds of charged silence before Dean spoke, inclining his head gracefully with what was apparently supposed to be a reassuring smile.

“We just want to make sure everything runs smoothly.” Cold rage flared in her gut as realization suddenly slid into place. There could only be one reason they would be so insistent on going, especially since the alternative was both incredibly safe and incredibly effortless on their end.

“You don’t trust me.” It wasn’t a question. The quick glance they shot to each other was all the confirmation she needed. She set her jaw and stared them each in the eyes in turn. Dean took a few short steps forward, shaking his head.

“Now hang on a minute. That’s not what I’m saying.” Gaia held her ground, barely containing the urge to blast him across the room outright.

“No. That’s exactly what you’re saying. Don’t try to whip out that bullshit hunter facade with me. I wasn’t born last century.” She leaned close, her face mere inches from his. To his credit, he didn’t flinch; she’d seen much bigger men back down from much smaller bluffs before.

“What is it? It can’t be that we just met, because you came to me. I just saved your asses almost at the expense of my own, which surely buys me some points.” She ran through the last few hours in her memory, searching for anything that might have caused this much distrust so soon. They’d known each other for less than a _day_ , for Zeus’ sake.

A sudden flash of Dean’s face — they were in the hotel room, she was struggling to get herself back under control after the angels had left and Dean wouldn’t shut up and her concentration was going, why had she even thought to try that damned spell ( _it’s been almost two thousand years but I thought I was going to die again, what else could I have done?_ ) — staring back at her, utterly terrified, crossed her memory and she growled, unsure which she was feeling more: anger or pity. More recollections fell into place; the furtive looks, whispered conversations that they thought she couldn’t hear. Of course.

“I’m not human.” She shifted her gaze slightly to give Sam a hard stare as he moved up to stand beside Dean, raising an eyebrow at her.

“What?” She bit her cheek in frustration before replying.

“I’m not human, which scares the shit out of you. So you don’t trust me.” She was shaking slightly, fighting to keep herself in check during the silent conversation that stretched between Sam and Dean before they turned back to her, having apparently decided on a route of appeasement. Dean shrugged apologetically.

“Nothing personal, Gaia, but we’ve gotten screwed over way too many times by trusting people like you. Cut us a little slack here.” Any trace of pity she may have felt vanished instantly at his sheer _audacity_.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but I got attacked just for _considering_ helping you. I am letting you stay in my house, which is now being watched by some of the nastiest sons of bitches Christianity has to offer. Who, strangely, are hesitant to kill the two of you for some reason but have no problem at _all_ with trying to take my head off.” She tugged the neckline of her shirt down to show the bright red line crossing her collarbones where Seraphiel had slashed her. Despite her best efforts, she hadn’t been able to fully heal herself; she was just too exhausted, and angelic magic was difficult to contend with at the best of times.

“It’s in my best interest to turn you two assholes over, and yet I’m arguing in favor of a plan that will let you live to fight another day. And now I’m suddenly not being trusted to do the job that you _asked_ me to do in the first place because you’ve just realized who you’re dealing with?” She was forced to back away from Dean as Sam broke in.

“You’re not the first one we’ve met that’s walked and talked like a duck. Our entire job involves dealing with monsters, and I can count on one hand the number who have meant us a lick of goodwill.”

“One of them surely being the daemon you just buried? The one who took an angel blade to the ribs and _died for you_ tonight?” Gaia mentally apologized to Hector; he’d disapproved of underhanded tactics in argument while he was alive. Sensing her advantage in the stricken silence that followed, she pressed on.

“Newsflash, mortal: if it’s my lack of humanity that scares you about this whole fucked-up situation, then you are in the wrong godsdamned line of work.” Dean recovered more quickly than Sam, and strode forward with his usual bravado, arms wide.

“If you’re so upset by this, then don‘t help. Tell us to take a flying leap. We’re not making you do anything.” The words had barely left his mouth before she had her hand level with his chest, a few quick, deep Greek consonants rolling off her tongue as he flew across the kitchen and impacted the wall.

Sam started forward with a shout, but froze when she snapped her head to face him; she was still humming with excess energy that rolled up her body like licks of golden flame, casting eerily undulating shadows over the entire kitchen. She narrowed her eyes as a peal of thunder rolled ominously overhead, causing him to glance up nervously. Satisfied that Sam would stay put, she strode over to where Dean lay groaning on the floor, kneeling next to him.

“What choice do you think I have? They know where I am. They know what I’m capable of. All that’s going to happen if I tell you to go fuck yourselves is they’re going to try to beat your location out of me and then kill me. My only option if I want to keep living is to help you finish this.” The last of the energy dissipated with a soft pop, leaving the kitchen looking bland and pale in the light from the fluorescent bulb overhead.

“It’s too late for me to be able to choose anymore.” She stood, wiping plaster from her knees, and walked towards the refrigerator. Dean struggled to sit up, spitting blood on the floor.

“Don’t think this has convinced us to not go with you.” She laughed bitterly, jerking the refrigerator open and taking a bottle of beer from the shelf before slamming the door shut with considerably more force than necessary.

“Whatever. If you want to risk your fool asses on principle, that’s not my problem.” She took a drag from the bottle and stalked out of the kitchen, turning her head to make sure they heard her as she passed.

“Stay in the house, the angels shouldn’t be able to get through the wards. We’ll go after sunset.” She was halfway down the hall, listening to the sound of Dean stumbling to his feet and grousing to Sam, before she turned around and strode through the door again. She was met with two suspicious stares, which she returned with more than a little venom.

“Break anything of value in this house and I’ll cut your thumbs off personally.” Satisfied, she walked down the hall to her bedroom and shut the door.

~~~

“How much crap can one person shove into a house? This place looks ripe for an episode of Hoarders.” Dean chuckled at Sam’s look of horror as his brother shut the door on yet another room stacked with books and artifacts.

Despite the fact that neither of them had gotten much sleep, they hadn’t bothered with trying to sack out; there was still too much adrenaline pumping from the night’s events to allow for any rest just yet. All other sources of amusement being nonexistent — neither of their phones could find a signal, and Gaia appeared to have neither internet service nor a television— they had begun poking around the house.

“Well, I guess when you’re old as dirt you find the time to collect a lot of shit. I feel like I‘m in the warehouse at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark.” Dean squatted to examine a dusty case full of what appeared to be fossilized teeth, each labeled with forty-letter Latin names that he couldn’t even begin to pronounce.

“How old do would you guess she is, anyways? A couple thousand?” Sam shrugged, picking up a musty photo album and flipping through it, stopping occasionally to examine a picture more closely.

“The Trojan war supposedly took place about three thousand years ago, but she said she had grown great-grandchildren by then. And she’s immortal, so who knows. Hey, look at this.” Dean trotted over to stand beside him, squinting at the faded square of paper on the page.

It took him several seconds to recognize the face Sam was pointing at; the haircut was completely different, and there was that lipstick, but there was no mistaking it; it was Gaia. She was holding a lowball glass in one hand and a cigarette in another, wedged back-to-front in between two women as a blurred figure made its way past in the foreground. Her face was turned towards the camera, smiling; she seemed to be in the middle of laughing. The words _Stardust Club, New Orleans, 1921_ were penciled underneath.

“She was a _flapper_?” They stared at the photograph for a few more seconds, Dean nodding in appreciation. “Not bad. Like the dress.” He moved back across the room as Sam snapped the book shut and replaced it where he’d found it.

“Don’t tell her that. She may blast you across a room with her freaky Greek mojo again.” Dean laughed, picking up a chunk of rock that was tagged as being an ‘ammonite’ and staring at it curiously.

They continued exploring for another hour or so. The discoveries kept getting weirder and weirder the longer they looked; Dean couldn’t help but let out a yelp upon finding a rather grotesque-looking shrunken head leering at him from a cupboard in a spare bedroom. It turned out to be a rubber replica from a gift shop in Fiji, but that didn’t stop him from shoving it into the nearest vase he could find to keep it from staring at him.

Dean eventually left Sam to sift through a perilously leaning stack of tattered comic books and wandered to the room farthest down the hall, the only one they hadn’t gone into. He was suddenly struck with a bizarre sense of foreboding that grew larger with every step; his heart pounded faster as he approached, and the urge to turn around and leave was almost unbearable when he finally made it to the door and turned the knob.

The feeling subsided almost instantly the second he stepped into the room, the sudden change making him gasp in surprise. Clearly the door had had some sort of voodoo on it meant to keep people out. The room itself didn’t look all that different from every other one he’d been in; dusty cases and books scattered everywhere, crumbling artifacts densely packing shelves. But he couldn’t help but feel that there was something else there; the air felt crowded somehow, vibrating as if he were standing too close to the speaker stack at a rock concert.

The feeling got more intense around one specific cabinet, a beat-up plywood thing like the ones they used to have at his old high school. He tugged experimentally at one of the doors; it creaked, the hinges jamming slightly. He pulled a bit harder, finally freeing it, and swung both doors open slowly, stepping back to avoid any surprise booby traps or face-melting rays. After a few seconds he peered in, swearing softly.

Inside was a long, shining piece of metal shaped into a sword, almost five feet long from end to end. It was perfectly polished to a golden hue, except for the acrid blackened streaks running down the blade; it was split in half from the tip almost all the way to its intricately carved grip, which bore a perfect imprint of a human hand melted all the way into the tang.

“Hey, Sammy? Get in here.” Sam strode easily down the hall — evidently the spell had been broken when Dean opened the door — and joined him next to the cabinet.

“Whoa. What the hell is that?” They both crouched to examine the handle more closely; none of the symbols were ones that Dean recognized. He glanced at Sam, who shook his head; no dice. Frowning, Dean turned back to the strange object.

“I dunno. It looks almost like an angel sword, except huge. And gold. ” Sam nodded thoughtfully, pointing towards the tip, and then the handle.

“And it looks like it’s been struck by lightning or something. Whoever was holding this thing probably died when that happened.” They sat in silence for a few seconds, until Sam nodded in the sword‘s direction.

“Touch it.” Dean scoffed, shooting his brother an irritated scowl.

“What, are you stupid? I’m not touching that.” Sam raised an eyebrow, elbowing Dean in the ribs.

“Come on.” Dean shook his head and stood, taking a few steps away from the cabinet.

“Dude, I got blasted across the kitchen earlier. It’s your turn to get zapped. Besides, I like my thumbs where they are.”

Sam rolled his eyes and faced the cabinet again. Dean watched him closely as he tried to figure out how to approach the thing; the melted handprint was going to make wrapping his fingers around the handle awkward. Whoever it had belonged to had significantly smaller hands than Sam did. After several minutes, having apparently come to the conclusion that there was no easy way to grab the thing, he simply took a deep breath and went for it.

A burst of light flashed in the room and Dean saw Sam stiffen, his arm shaking with tension. He was moving forward to try and pull Sam back ( _god damn that was a stupid idea, why did I let him do that_ ), but it was over just as quickly as it had started; Sam let go and fell over backwards, stunned but apparently unharmed. He was staring into the cabinet, after making sure that he hadn’t broken anything, Dean looked in as well. There was a shining outline of a handprint slowly fading from the metal. They turned to stare at each other in shock.

“That was like touching a live wire or something.” Dean swallowed thickly, nodding.

“Yeah, looked like it.” There was a beat of silence before he spoke again. “I don’t feel right about this, Sam.” Sam rolled to his feet, rubbing his hand.

“Me either. Let’s go.” They carefully shut the cabinet and went downstairs as quietly as they could. Dean checked his watch; it was shortly before noon, and he was beginning to drag a bit.

“We should probably get a bit of sleep. Gotta go kick some ass in the Underworld tonight, meet the big man downstairs and all that.” He glanced towards the couch, about to claim it before Sam could swipe the cushions, but suddenly recalled the sight that had greeted him upon walking into the room eight hours before; a body under a blanket. Hector had died on that couch. There was no trace of blood left on the floor or the upholstery; Gaia had apparently magicked it clean at some point, but still. He looked at Sam and was slightly relieved to see that he’d evidently come to the same realization.

“Kitchen table?”

“Probably for the best.” Sam nodded and started off towards the hall.

~~~

Half an hour later Dean was still awake, unable to keep the early-morning argument from popping into his head.

“She’s got a point.” Sam groaned, his head buried in the nest he’d made out of his arms and jacket

“Dean, I was almost asleep.”

“Come on, Sam.” Sam sat up reluctantly, glaring at him blearily as he stretched his limbs.

“A point about what?” Dean stared at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with a fingernail.

“About not having a choice. If we leave, or she throws us out and tries to run, they’ll kill her for sure. We’re here because Cas has already killed anything — any _one_ — that even remotely had a chance at kicking his ass. They only know she exists because we came here in the first place.”

It had been bothering him ever since she’d first pointed it out, because dammit, she was right; she hadn’t asked to be involved. She’d saved them from that Metatron bitch instead of hanging them out to dry, and now she was stuck. He looked up at Sam, who was giving his best ‘understanding puppy-dog’ face; Dean couldn’t help but chuckle a bit, inwardly.

“All the more reason for us to get it right, then. It’s more than just us and Cas on the line now.”

“Yeah.” He leaned back in the chair and kicked his feet up, closing his eyes.

“ ‘Night, Sam. Or afternoon. Or whatever.” Sam threw a piece of rubble at him before flopping back down on the table.

“Dude, _shut up_.”

~~~

It was the twinge in his neck that woke him up, but what returned Dean to a minimal level of barely-functioning consciousness was the rich, warm smell filling the air around him.

 _Coffee._

He sat up and rubbed his eyes, groaning as every joint complained loudly at the combined stress of sleeping in a kitchen chair and being thrown into a kitchen wall. He was going to have to find another room in Gaia’s house to spend time in; her kitchen was not treating him well. Standing, he began searching for the source of the sweet, sweet caffeine.

He stopped short upon turning to his left and discovering Gaia sitting on the counter, cradling something in her lap that may have been a book and may have been a plate. He couldn’t really see well enough to figure out which yet. She didn’t bother looking up, waving a hand at the counter opposite her perch.

“Coffee’s over there. Milk’s in the fridge.” He turned to find that the coffee was, indeed, sitting in a large carafe on the opposite end of the kitchen, complete with two spare mugs and a large bowl of sugar. He quickly poured himself a cup, dumped in four spoonfuls of the sugar, and swallowed half the mug in one gulp before topping it off. Gaia was staring at him with one eyebrow upraised. She pitched her voice low; Sam was still crashed on the table.

“Were you raised by wolves or something? You keep up like that, you’re gonna suffocate.” He dumped another two spoonfuls of sugar into his mug and took another sip, returning to his seat at the table.

“Yeah. Thanks for your concern, mom.” He watched her mess with the thing in her lap for a few more seconds, utterly confused by the fact that she appeared to by typing on it, until it finally dawned on him what exactly the object was.

“You have an iPad?” Gaia snorted in annoyance.

“Of course I do. I may be old enough to remember the invention of the wheel, but I’m not a Luddite. I was first in line at the Apple store down in Atlanta when these suckers came out.” She continued tapping at the screen for a few minutes, narrowing her eyes in concentration.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sending an email to someone with excellent connections. She’ll get the word out to the rest of my family, find us some backup while we’re downstairs. Like you said last night at the bar, we’re going to need everyone we can get.” She finally gave the corner of the screen a solid push, presumably to hit send, and set it down on the counter beside her. Dean raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“How the hell are you even getting a signal? Both our phones have zero bars.” He pulled his out of his pocket and flashed the screen at her, the words NO SIGNAL lighting up instantly.

“Magic. No, seriously.” She lifted the tablet to show him the underside when he scoffed at her. Two symbols were engraved into the hard plastic.

“The first one helps me catch a signal anywhere, and the second quadruples the battery output. I got sick of the damned thing dying on me all the time because I kept forgetting to plug it in.” Dean toyed with the handle of his coffee cup for a few seconds, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say next.

“About earlier…”

“Dean-” Dean raised a hand, cutting her off.

“No. Listen.” Gaia nodded and leaned against the cabinet, waiting for him to speak. He spun in his chair to face her, elbows on his knees. He didn’t look up; instead, he focused on the crack in the linoleum where the counter met the floor.

“Look…it was shitty of us to drag you into this. I’m sorry about that, that you’re stuck with us because you’ll get killed otherwise. It’s more incentive for us to do this thing right. Nobody else should have to die for us.” He stole a glance upward. She was listening patiently, her eyes examining his face as he spoke. He found himself strangely unnerved, and had to take a deep breath before he spoke again.

“But he’s our friend. Our family. We’ve been through a lot together. The reason the Apocalypse didn’t go off the way it was supposed to is because we fought it together. And now this…this is screwed-up and wrong and we need to fix it because he’s our friend and it never should have gone like this.

“We need to make sure he’s okay. I need to make sure he’s okay.” He regretted the last sentence the second it was out of his mouth. It was way too much, more than he’d admitted even to himself in the last few weeks, much less to someone he’d known less than twenty-four hours. _Please don’t ask, please don’t ask, please don’t ask…_

Fortunately she seemed able to read the slight panic in his face and left it alone, instead sliding off the counter to sit at the table beside him. She picked up what was left of his coffee and drank it before speaking.

“We’re never going to be able to make this work if we can’t trust each other. I may be able to change shape and set myself on fire and shoot thunderbolts out my ass occasionally, but I won’t stab you in the back and I won‘t kill you.” She stood, taking the cup with her, and refilled it from the carafe, smiling wryly.

“Not intentionally, anyways. But you‘ve gotta trust me.” He twisted around to face her.

“I know. And I’m trying, believe me. But I’m working with twenty-plus years of not trusting non-humans. Cas was the first one I ever really did trust, and then…” She set the carafe down with a loud, pointed thunk and began spooning sugar into the cup.

“I’m not him.”

“No, you’re not.” Dean watched her silently as she stirred the coffee and walked back to the table. She set the mug down in front of him and he nodded his thanks as she sat again.

“I still want to go, and so does Sam.” Gaia threw up her hands in annoyance, glaring at him.

“Zeus’ _beard_ , Dean, we’ve been over this.” Dean startled at the irritated noise she made, nearly choking on the gulp of coffee he’d been in the middle of swallowing. He waved a hand at her, voice rough from the hot liquid burning his throat.

“ _Not_ because we don’t trust you. I don’t like sending someone else in to fight my battles, especially if they’re alone. I wouldn’t send Sam to finish a fight that I had started, not while I’m still breathing, and I’m not gonna do it to you either.” She rubbed one temple and looked at him for a long second, finally pointing towards the hole in the drywall behind Sam’s sleeping form.

“Sorry about the whole ‘blasting you into a wall’ thing. I can fix you up if you need it.” She extended a hand towards his head and he leaned into it gratefully.

“Yeah, that’d be great, actually.” His forehead tingled where her fingers touched him, and his body was flooded with warmth. He felt like there were bubbles popping against his skin as several bruises and lacerations healed in a matter of seconds. It was incredibly different from all the times he’d been healed by Cas; then it had been quick and instantaneous. One second you looked like a side of beef, the next you were good as new. Get in, get out, get going. When she removed her hand he shook his head, then rolled it, cracking the bones in his neck. Gaia scowled at him.

“That’s disgusting.” He grinned at her and took another drink of his coffee.

“What’s disgusting?” Sam had finally rejoined the realm of the living. Dean snickered at the lock of hair standing straight up on Sam’s head as Gaia stood to retrieve her iPad from the counter.

“Nothing, you just missed a good chick flick moment. I’m gonna go see what our friends got up to in the news today.”

Sam blinked at her in confusion mouthing _‘What happened?_ ’ to Dean. Dean shrugged; he’d have to tell the kid later. It wouldn’t matter if he tried to explain now anyways; Sam had zoned in on his mug of coffee. Dean pulled it towards himself protectively and frowned, pointing towards the carafe on the counter.

“Go get your own.” Gaia hummed appreciatively behind him, the low murmur of a news video floating through the iPad’s tiny speakers.

“They’ve been _busy_. Natural disasters all over the place, mass hysteria in the Vatican, those Westboro dickheads are making more of a stink than usual…he managed to convert Christopher Hitchens? _Gods,_ he’s good.” She switched it off and sat back down.

“Yeah, pick your jaw up off the floor. So how do we get into the Underworld?” She shot Dean a wicked smile.

“We’re going spelunking.”

Aw, _shit_.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Between school and laptopageddon (got a bunch of water spilled on it, nearly bricked the whole thing), I haven’t had a whole lot of time to work on the story.
> 
> This chapter, and all the Underworld chapters, are dedicated to the wonderful Lilly/Laudine. She’s saved my figurative ass several times with this fic, the most notable of which being the time when I was completely stuck on the plot and she suggested I take the guys to the Underworld to meet Hades in the first place, and then proceeded to school me on Greek mythology. She’s provided several wonderful discussions that have impacted my characterizations as well. Without her there would be no story. This one’s for you, girl.
> 
> A note on timing: as far as I can tell, Season 6 is supposed to take place during 2011. There were/are supposed to be two full lunar eclipses this year, one occurring June 15 and another on December 10. Since it wasn't specified (to my knowledge) which one Cas used for his ritual, I fudged it and chose the Dec. 10 one, for reasons that will become apparent later in the story. Since we started a little short of three weeks after the S6 finale, this particular chapter falls a day or two away from New Year's Eve 2011.

Sam was cold.

No, he was _beyond_ cold. He was freezing. He was slowly reaching the point of entropy, his internal temperature edging on zero Kelvin. Any colder and all atomic movement in his body would stop entirely.  He almost tripped as the toe of one of his ice cubes --sorry, his _feet_ \-- caught on a fallen branch, making him have to stop momentarily and disentangle it. Gaia and Dean’s voices floated back to him over the chilled air, echoing faintly through the underbrush.

“I am _not_ doing any ‘witch doctoring’ to keep you warm, Dean. It’s a waste of energy that I’m gonna need for keeping you alive later.”

“What about keeping me alive _now_? I’m colder than a witch’s tits, Miss ‘it’s-only-a-five-minute-walk’.”

“Oh quit whining, you big baby. I did offer you the option of staying home, if you’ll remember.” Sam rolled his eyes and shouted into the air.

“Would you two _shut up_? And wait for me, I’ve lost you.”

 He cursed himself mentally for letting Gaia convince him not to wear an extra shirt or something; the walk to the cave was supposed to be short and she’d made them pack light, insisting that they’d need to be able to move quickly once they were in the Underworld. He scanned the darkness for the light from Dean’s lantern -- they only had the two, as Gaia claimed not to need one -- and set off towards it, winding his way through the trees.

~~~

 _“Don’t bother with the guns.” Sam and Dean exchanged an indignant look as Gaia shook a finger at them and pointed at the table, indicating for them to put their pistols down. Dean pressed his, muzzle-down, into the tabletop, as if it were an extension of his hand._

 _“We always pack heat on a hunt. That’s like, the golden rule, aside from ‘always carry salt and matches‘. If it moves, shoot it.” Gaia tutted at him, rooting around in Dean’s duffel with both hands to take inventory of what else they had in their combined armory._

 _“They’re mechanical. They won’t work down there.” She pulled out several machetes and a bamboo stake, which she eyed suspiciously and tossed to the side. Looking back up at Dean, she quirked an eyebrow._

 _“Even if they did, it wouldn’t matter. Everything you’d be shooting at is already dead. Or won‘t particularly care about a silver bullet or two.” Sam looked down at the gun in his hand. That thought hadn’t occurred to him. He weighed it carefully, then set it down.  
   
“I guess that makes sense.” Dean was still hesitating over laying his pistol down, the expression on his face more appropriate to Gaia having asked him to leave a leg behind. She glanced up and him and sighed indulgently._

 _“You can take it if you need your security blanket, but I’m telling you right now it’s going to be a waste of time.” Dean finally put the gun down and crossed his arms._

 _“I feel naked.” Gaia ignored him, arranging their meager arsenal on the table. When she was satisfied she turned to face them, her tone businesslike._

 _“Alright, so I’ve got my bow and I always have a few of these...” She flicked her hands, dropping a nasty-looking dagger from each jacket sleeve. “...on me at any given time. I’m guessing you’ve got some silver knives, definitely take those. With the exception of specifically Judeo-Christian stuff, Greek beasties have the same basic allergies as a lot of the ones you already deal with.” She tucked the daggers back into her sleeves absentmindedly, considering the carefully-organized table._

 _“Do you have any iron rods, hammers, stuff like that? I have a few if you don‘t. Won‘t do you much good in the Underworld, but you‘ll need them in the cave.”  Sam shook his head, waving a hand in the direction of the front door._

 _“It’s all out in the car. Which is outside, where you’ve specifically forbidden us from going until we absolutely have to.” Gaia nodded and glanced out the window. She’d been doing so more often in the past few hours, peering at the sky as if she were expecting to see the angels hovering directly overhead like enemy helicopters waiting to open fire. It wasn’t helping Sam’s nerves._

 _“Yeah, I know. I‘ll get them later.” Her hand hovered over a row of machetes before deciding on the weapon at the end._

 _“Angel sword. I’ve modified it so it’ll work on most of the stuff we’d come across down there. Any takers?” She tilted the blade to show the Greek spells she’d etched into the metal. The color had changed slightly as well; where it’d been a cool, bluish silver before, it was now closer to gold._

 _Sam and Dean were both silent, trying to avoid looking her in the eye; in addition to being the sword that had killed Hector, it bore a fair resemblance to the bizarre, broken thing hidden in an upstairs room of the house. After a few seconds of silence, Gaia gave them an exasperated glare._

 _“Come on, guys. It’s one of the most powerful weapons we have right now. We may as well use it, since it‘s here.” Finally, Dean held out his hand._

 _“Yeah, I’ll have it." Gaia tossed it to him, and turned to examine Sam as Dean tried to find a place to store the thing that wouldn‘t result in his losing a limb as he walked._

 _“Alright, so that leaves Sam. I’ve got something special for you.”_

~~~

“It shouldn’t be all that far now.” Sam had finally caught up to Gaia and Dean. They were following a small stream, picking their way along the bank to avoid the worst of the underbrush. Gaia had assured them that they wouldn’t have to walk through the trees the whole way; she’d taken measures magically to ensure they wouldn’t be seen or heard, although that hadn’t stopped Sam from glancing around suspiciously once in a while. You never knew, with angels.

He was enjoying the apparent ceasefire that had been negotiated while he’d been asleep in the afternoon, though. Despite the fact that she was clearly capable of frying him to a crisp where he stood, the idea that he was talking to a veteran of the Trojan War was _really freaking cool_. He was hoping to eventually convince her to translate that notebook Hector had given them, as she would obviously speak the same dialect of Greek. Right now, though, his mind was on more immediate concerns.

“Remind me again why we have to hike out to a freaky cave at midnight in December to pay your grandson a visit?” They’d come to a small ledge about six and a half feet high, over which the stream fell. The three of them stood considering it, trying to figure out how they were going to get themselves over it. Gaia set the toe of her boot into a hollow, testing its strength. It crumbled. Bad news; if it wouldn’t hold her at her current size, it wouldn’t hold Sam or Dean. Climbing was out. She turned back to him and shrugged.

“Caves are entrances into the Underworld. The VIP entrance is the big cave outside the town of Eleusis in Greece, but any old cave will do if you know the right tricks.”

“Which you do.” She shot him a sardonic grin as she heaved the large, lumpy bag she’d been carrying into the air to land with a loud _clank_ of iron  at the top of the cliff.

“Obviously.” She’d explained a somewhat complicated-looking ritual back in the house, one which he’d be damned if he could remember all of now. It was part of why, to everyone’s irritation, they were hiking through the woods after midnight; it’d taken her the better part of the afternoon to prepare what she’d need, which had rather ominously included taking a few drops apiece of his and Dean’s own blood.

Sam cupped his hands, intending to boost Gaia up to the edge, but she shook her head.

“No, you first, Sam, then Dean. I’ll be easier to pull up from the top than you would be.”  Sam looked over his shoulder at Dean, who shrugged and laced his fingers together. After planting his foot firmly in his brother’s hands, Sam jumped, pulling himself up as Dean lifted. Digging his nails into the icy dirt, he managed to swing his legs up and roll himself over the edge. He peered back down, where Dean was squinting up at him, dusting off his hands.

“Jesus, Sam. You need to lay off the donuts.” Sam scoffed at him, dangling a hand down to catch Dean by the arm and pull him up.

“Says the guy who eats three cheeseburgers a day. One, two-” Gaia lifted, and he caught Dean’s hand, but something was off; Dean was coming up way too fast, and Sam had to duck out of the way to avoid an unintentional headbutt. Dean sailed neatly up and over the edge and landed flat on his back. He sat up, stunned, and then glared back at the floor below.

“You couldn’t have done that with Sam and saved me the effort of…the hell did she go?” Sam leaned over. The bank below the ledge was empty, and the woods were still except for the occasional quiet crack of a frozen stick breaking under its own weight and a single bird fluttering overhead. A sudden rustle in the dead, desiccated bushes lining the ledge startled them, and they scrambled back a few feet, knives at the ready. Sam glanced around. She was nowhere to be seen.

“Gaia?”

“Back here.” Sam jumped, whirling around to face her. She stood a few feet behind them with her bow in one hand, picking dried leaves out of her hair with the other. Sam folded his knife, sticking it back in his pocket as he walked over to stand beside her.

“How the hell did you get up here?” She grinned, flicking a leaf in Sam’s direction.

“I turned into a bird and flew. Didn’t feel like jumping.” She pointed at a small opening in the rock face to her right as Dean joined them, carrying the bag.

“Cave’s right over there. Let’s go.” She turned and jogged towards the cave’s mouth, reaching a hand over her shoulder to draw an arrow from nowhere as she moved. Dean shook his head, frowning.

“God, that still freaks me out every time I see it.” Sam shot a resigned look at Dean as they followed her over the uneven ground.

Gaia had attempted to explain how the disappearing-bow-and-arrow trick worked after Dean asked where, exactly, she kept it when she wasn’t using it. Sam had thought it a fair question; the thing was a little under four feet long and not easily concealed, especially considering that Gaia’s default non-battle-mode form  apparently topped out at about five foot four. After a long, complicated answer involving the phrases ‘quantum folding’ and ‘dimensional phase shift’, the three of them had agreed to call it ‘magic’ and left it at that.

Either way, knowing or not knowing didn’t make seeing it happen any less _uncomfortable_.

Gaia turned to check that they were close, her bow nocked and ready to draw. Dean had moved right behind her, nodding towards the bow.

“Do I need to get the sword out?” She shook her head, stepping forward into the darkness. Her disembodied voice floated out to them, sounding hollow as it echoed around the cave walls.

“No. There’s wild pigs in here occasionally, is all. What you need to do is get over here and hold the lantern up so I can see to shoot them.” Sam followed Dean as he marched in, the light from the lanterns throwing jagged shadows over the broken rock lining the floor of the cave. Everything was covered in a layer of grey dust, and smelled like cold, wet rock. Sam crossed the chamber to the next gap in the wall, which led into a larger void that Gaia was busily inspecting for signs of life.

“This is kind of disappointing. As far as caves go, I mean. No stalagmites. No bats.” Sam saw the half of Gaia’s face that wasn’t in shadow grimace in disgust.

“Trust me, you don’t want bats. You’ve never smelled anything so terrible in your life. It gets nicer to look at further in, though. Come on.” She side-stepped into the chamber, quickly checking the corners for potential attackers.

After several minutes, when she was satisfied that there were no pigs ready to disembowel them or angels ready to smite them, Gaia put the bow away. Sam watched with interest, trying to spot the exact moment when it slid out of sight. Yet again, it seemed to happen right as he blinked. He always missed it.

“I’ve been meaning to ask...Hector mentioned something about your bow being the bow of Hippolyta. As in, the actual queen of the actual Amazons. Was he right?” He heard Gaia laugh dryly as she climbed over a pile of collapsed rubble that was blocking their path.

“You bet your ass he was. The Amazons fought on the side of the Trojans during the war. I met her while I was staying in the capital. Watch out, the rock’s loose.” She had no sooner said it when a small rockslide  occurred beneath Sam’s feet, knocking him off balance and leaving him reeling. He closed his eyes, fully expecting to smash headfirst into the pile of sharp rock below.

Instead of the face full of limestone that he’d been expecting, he found himself jerked upright. Gaia and Dean had both grabbed him by the nearest arm and hauled him upright, steadying him until the rocks had settled. After a few more precarious minutes of climbing they finally crested the pile and made it to the bottom.

The floor seemed to have leveled out, and the ceiling was a lot higher than it had been in the previous chambers. Gaia seemed to be moving less urgently as well; she was picking her way around the room slowly, wandering the edge of a large pool of clear water. Sam stepped over a boulder embedded in the floor and followed her, shivering as a fat drop of icy water struck him square in the back of the neck during its fall from the ceiling.

“What was she like?” Gaia paused at the edge of the pool, her back to Sam and Dean.

“Hell of a woman. Fantastic in bed. Legs went on for miles. Those were some good days, apart from the whole war thing.” Sam turned to Dean, who was staring at Gaia with eyebrows raised, nodding approvingly.  

“Dean, I can hear you mouthbreathing from here.” Dean’s expression immediately changed from admiration to indignation, and Sam had to hide a smirk.

“I didn’t say anything!” Gaia held out a hand, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“This’ll work. Give me the bag.”

~~~

“Alright, got all that?”

Dean held the coin between his thumb and forefinger, regarding it with some suspicion. He wasn’t entirely sure what Gaia had done to the thing, but the blood crusting the picture stamped into the surface didn’t bode well, and neither did the thick circle of rock salt she was busy pouring around the two of them. Sam was staring at his coin as well, barely able to take his eyes off it long enough to answer her.

“Yeah. Throw the coins in, say ‘I humbly request entrance to the realm of the Lord of the Dead’, when the water turns completely black we jump in and swim for the bottom until we come out in the Underworld.” Dean turned slowly on the spot as Sam spoke, taking in their surroundings. In the past few minutes the area around them had gone from being pristine white to being covered in barely-legible scrawls and glyphs, written in a metallic-smelling reddish-brown liquid. When Dean had asked what it was, Gaia had simply shaken her head and not answered.

“Is this seriously gonna work?” Gaia shrugged and continued pouring the salt.

“It got Heracles there from a cave in Tanaerum. I don’t see why it wouldn’t work for you in Georgia.” With the salt bag finally emptied, she tossed it to the side and picked up the two iron bars she’d dug from the bag earlier, handing them over. Dean waved his bar at the ground around him.

“What’s with the salt line? Afraid of what’s gonna come crawling out?” The circle, situated on the very edge of the cave pool, was just big enough that he and Sam could move around it comfortably at the same time. It was the thickness of the line that concerned him. Anything warranting a six-inch line was bad news.

“I’m afraid of what’s gonna come crawling in. Opening a portal like this will bring hordes of the restless dead looking to fight their way through you into the Underworld. Doesn’t matter if they’re Greek or not, if you’re desperate enough you’ll take anything you can get and tear up whatever’s in your way to get it.” Dean gave her a hard stare. She blanched, backpedaling quickly.

“You’ll have your iron and the salt though, you should be fine.” Dean rolled his eyes at her. _Yeah, that’s reassuring. Just some vengeful spirits coming in to mess you up, no big._ A sudden thought struck him. What the hell did she mean, _you_ should be fine?

“You’re not gonna stand out there and field some rotters for us while we do the hokey-pokey?” Gaia shook her head apologetically, sliding her hands into the back pockets of her jeans.

“I can’t be here when you do it.” Dean blinked at her in disbelief.  A cave full of ghosts, no shotgun, and now no damn backup? He was beginning to regret his insistence on going. If he ended up getting his ass kicked he was never going to hear the end of it.

“Why the hell not?” Gaia rocked on her heels, sighing with irritation.  

“I conduct natural forces in ways humans don’t. It’s…” She paused, struggling to find a way to explain it in words with less than fifteen letters apiece. Dean groaned inwardly; another quantum physics lecture was imminent.

“…it’s just how I’m built. If I were here the energy would latch onto me instead of forming up the way it should and the portal would collapse before you could get all the way through.”

“Are you sure you can’t just zap us over there or something?” The glare Gaia directed at Sam was just a hair short of murderous.

“No. Like I’ve said about a thousand times before, _I_ can stroll in anytime I like. Mortals can’t. If you want in, this is how you do it.” She began throwing empty bottles and salt bags into the sack she’d used to carry them from the house, flinging it across the cave when she was done.

“We don’t have the time for me to train you in the Eleusinian Mysteries, so I did everything else that we needed for this back at the house. For your part, just throw the coin in and say the magic words.” She dug through her jacket pocket as she turned around, tossing a small object at each of them.

“Put these on.” Dean caught it easily and examined it; it was a necklace, a small bronze pendant with a single strange, angular character carved into it, on a leather string.

“What are these supposed to be?

“They’re charms. Basic protection and blessing crap, but with the added bonus that they glow in my presence.” Dean slipped his on and had to shield his eyes against the bright glow that flared suddenly as it touched his skin. There was another nearly-painful flash beside him as Sam put his on as well. The charms glowed steadily, casting a small pool of gold light across Sam and Dean’s chests. Gaia took a few slow steps towards them. The glow increased fractionally with each stride.

“The closer you are to me, the brighter the light gets. The water’s going to be dark and you won’t be alone in there, so you’ll be pretty disoriented. I’ll be waiting on the other side, so use it as a kind of homing beacon.” Dean laughed softly, closing his hand around the charm to keep it from blinding him.

“Head for the light.” Gaia gave him a grim smile.

“Exactly.” The three of them stood looking at each other for a moment before she spoke again, her tone calm and deliberate.

"Look. I think maybe the exact danger of this whole plan got lost in that argument last night, so let me reiterate. No, shut up, let me say this.” She held up a hand, cutting Sam off before he could interrupt her.

“Hades has complete control over every mortal in the Underworld, alive or dead. If you go, you're not getting out again without his explicit permission, which I can't guarantee you’ll have when we want to leave.

“I have absolutely no authority down there. I can’t just grab you and go once we’re done, because I can‘t physically remove you from the Underworld unless he lets me. He can toss you into Tartarus just for looking at him cross-eyed, and it could be centuries before I would be able to bargain you guys out. If at all.” She took the coin from Dean’s hand and held it up, the light from the charms glinting and rolling around the few places on it that were still clean.

“This, right here, is your last chance to get off the ride. Jump in that water, and we’re committed.”

Dean turned to Sam. He held his brother’s gaze a moment, not bothering to ask the question aloud. Sam didn’t even hesitate, nodding confidently.  Dean faced Gaia again and plucked the coin from her fingers. She ran a hand over her face in frustration, shaking her head slowly.

“For the record, I think this is idiotic and you’re both morons.” Dean grinned as Sam moved forward, slapping her on the shoulder.

“You’re the one letting us do it.” Gaia retaliated with a scoff and a dismissive wave of her hand.

“Go jump in a lake.”

She backed away from them and stepped carefully over the salt line towards the pond, which was perfectly still and clear enough to see to the bottom. It didn’t look all that deep -- maybe three feet at best -- but Dean had spent some time in caves before. He was willing to bet  it was probably closer to fifteen, although not  enough to try jumping in headfirst. That was not a mistake you made twice.

He watched with interest as Gaia headed straight for the water itself, wondering if she would have to jump in as well. She stepped off the edge of the rock with a small, balletic hop, vanishing the instant her foot touched the water. The room went dark; the charms around their necks had abruptly stopped glowing, leaving them with only the lanterns. The only other sign of her departure was the single small ripple that spread gracefully across the surface of the pond. Dean watched it silently as it hit the opposite wall and bounced back toward them before looking down at the coin in his hand.

“You ready to get stuck in Greek Hell?” Sam nodded, closing his fist tightly around his own coin.

“Can’t possibly be worse than Christian Hell.” After a silent count, they tossed the coins in and spoke together as they sank to the bottom.

“I humbly request entrance to the realm of the Lord of the Dead.” Dean squatted at the edge, peering into the water for any sign of color. The coins glittered at the bottom, showing only gold and dark, rusty brown. Sam knelt beside him, his head propped on one fist.

“Nothing. No, wait, look. Talk about anticlimactic.” A small, sinuous tendril of black color was snaking from each coin like a drop of dye through milk, slowly spreading and swirling through the water. Dean shifted so that he was sitting on the floor, his iron bar across his lap.

“So now we just sit here and let it brew?” Sam opened his mouth to answer, freezing on an exhale. His breath was coming out in puffs of steam. He stared wide-eyed at Dean.

“Take me with you.”

They leapt to their feet, iron bars in hand, and turned to face the source of the voice behind them. A young man stared at them, his face ravaged and bloodied, several knife slashes visible across his chest. He reached towards them with one dirty hand, clawing at the air with broken fingernails. He flickered briefly, as though he were being illuminated from behind by a sputtering candle. Dean shifted his grip on the iron and shook his head.

“I’m sorry, pal. We can’t. Standing room only.” Dean felt Sam jump beside him and turned; another two spirits had appeared to their right, both soaking wet and choking on water as they tried to speak. More manifested behind them, each more ragged than the last, pressing close and passing through one another, all of them begging to be allowed in. A freezing wind whipped through the cave, and Sam had to shout to be heard over it.

“We can’t help you!” A howl of rage tore from the spirits surrounding them, who now numbered in the dozens. One, a middle-aged woman covered in horrific burns, broke from the group and ran for the pond. She dove for the water, sobbing desperately in relief.

She never made it over the edge. A brilliant flash filled the room, and a solid wall of light flared around the pond where the ghost had tried to jump in. She exploded in a burst of golden flame, sending a shockwave of shimmering energy through the symbols Gaia had painted over the floor and walls. A slow rumble began to fill the room, so powerful that Dean could feel the floor vibrating beneath his feet. He slashed at a ghost in front of him and peered down into the pond.

A dark maelstrom had formed, crackling with lightning, sending waves of water washing over the edge of the pond. The groan and rumble intensified, cracking the ceiling overhead and sending several stalactites crashing into the ground around them. Dean stood, mesmerized, until Sam took him roughly by the arm.

“Dean, the salt’s going.” Dean glanced down. A large section of the circle Gaia had laid down for them had partially washed away in the maelstrom, and wouldn’t hold much longer. Already several of the stronger ghosts had edged around, getting between them and the portal in an attempt to hitch a ride as they passed through. Dean tightened his grip on his iron bar.

“Guess it’s time we blew this joint, then.” Sam nodded in silent agreement. They swung the bars in front of them to clear a path and lunged towards the pond, the ghosts disappearing in a puff of smoke as the iron touched them, and leapt into the torrent.

Dean lost sight of Sam almost immediately. The water was unbelievably dark, and so cold it was nearly impossible to think. He could barely string together enough coordination to kick his legs and pull with his arms at the same time, and as soon as he got any decent movement going something, or several somethings -- he couldn’t tell what they were, it was too dark and he was too numb from cold and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to know, honestly -- would slither by and knock him off balance and get him turned around, and he’d have to start all over.

There was something that he was supposed to remember to do, but his sluggish, frozen brain couldn’t quite bring it to the surface. Something about light, but there was no light here. He had no way of getting it. He was underwater. All he could do was swim, and he was fast running out of air. The thought nagged at the back of his mind. Light. Light. _Light._

 _Head for the light._

 _Exactly._

He groped at his neck, his stiff fingers finding the charm. It was glowing faintly, just barely visible even a few inches in front of his face. Not knowing which way to go, he began kicking, watching intently for any signs of change. After a few seconds it began to grow dimmer and he panicked, flipping over and paddling as hard as he could. The light began to grow brighter again, but he could feel his awareness growing fuzzier as the cold and lack of oxygen began to take over. Struggling against the urge to simply stop, he pressed on. He was very close.

One of the somethings suddenly hit him, hard, sending him spinning wildly. He gasped, his already-burning lungs filling with water as he thrashed, trying to regain his bearings.  He was fading fast, barely noticing the hand that grasped him solidly by the collar and yanked him up above the surface.

~~~

“Dear gods, Dean. Were you taught to swim by the Sirens?”

Dean opened his eyes to find Gaia leaning over him, her face a blur. A wave of nausea hit, and he rolled over, vomiting black water onto the grass below him. After a minute or two he collapsed on his side, still shaking from cold. At least it was warmer here, and as humid as though a rainstorm had recently passed. He tried to focus on Gaia’s face again, but couldn’t look up long enough to find it. He stared at her knee instead, managing to croak out a single word.

“Sam?” She shifted to the side, showing him a large, huddled mass behind her.

“Hi, Dean,” it said back to him. He rubbed his eyes, the images finally resolving in a way that didn’t make his head hurt as much. Gaia took him by the shoulder and helped him sit up. She was perfectly dry except for her right jacket sleeve, which was soaked up to the elbow.

“Sam took about half the time you did. I was beginning to wonder if I’d have to break out my fishing pole. So how did it go?” Dean coughed violently and shrugged, turning to look at the river flowing beside him. It looked like pretty much any river he’d ever seen on a National Geographic special; deep and fast-moving, bordered by razor-sharp grass and rocks. The only difference was the frightening, impenetrable blackness of the water.

“About like you said it would. Lots of angry dead people. Water was dark and scary and full of weird shit that kept getting me turned around. You neglected to mention how fucking cold it is, though.” Gaia laughed and shrugged apologetically. Dean studied Sam suspiciously as he moved closer.

“How is Sam already dry?” Sam grinned and chucked a thumb at Gaia.

“She did some witch doctoring.” Dean raised an eyebrow, shivering as he held his dripping jacket open for their inspection.

“I’d sure appreciate some of that myself, thanks.” Gaia gripped his shoulder and spoke a single word. He nearly toppled as a sudden headrush overcame him, followed by a wave of heat. He stumbled to his feet as it passed, following Sam up the bank of the river.

He was met with a sheer cliff of dark rock, tall enough to give him vertigo just by looking at it. A wide iron gate nearly twelve feet tall stood open at its base, the tunnel beyond too dark to see what may be hiding inside. The whole place gave him the creeps; it seemed to be in a state of permanent twilight, with that weird greenish cast to it that had always meant it was time to run to the tornado cellar when he was a kid. He considered drawing the sword, but decided against it; Gaia didn’t seem all that concerned, and she knew this place better than he did. She was coming up the bank behind him, running her hand down her wet sleeve as she did so, leaving dry leather behind. She pointed at a small dock in the water behind her.

“Charon must be on the other side of the river picking up the new residents. It doesn’t happen often, but there are still a few people who stick to the old traditions.” Dean blinked a few times, trying to clear his vision. With the exception of Gaia and Sam, everything was slightly out of focus. Sam, shaking his head and groaning, was apparently having similar problems.

"Everything's kind of...hazy around the edges." Gaia raised an eyebrow at him, her expression halfway between amusement and irritation.

"Well, yeah. You're _alive_. You're not vibrating at quite the same wavelength as everything else down here. You'll get used to it in a minute." He glanced around again uneasily.

“So this is the Underworld?” Gaia nodded, drawing even with him on the grass and sliding her hands into her pockets.

“Technically speaking, yes. You’re in the right dimension, at least. Crossing the Styx was step one of two.” Dean felt his face fall. _Oh god, not another damn portal._

“What’s step two?” Gaia took the two of them by the shoulders, spinning them around to face the gate and shoving them forward gently. A low growl echoed from the tunnel.

“Gentlemen, I give you…Cerberus.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so let's be real here for a minute: I sincerely apologize for the what, four-month hiatus? Without revealing too much, I've been having a hell of a time health-wise since the last update, and between that and school and just plain being burned out I haven't had much time to work on this. I've been working on other projects trying to get my writing groove back, and I feel confident enough to give this thing another shot now.
> 
> So here's an update. It's tiny, but it's here! And there's definitely going to be more to come soon, since I've got a lot of time over the holidays to work on it.
> 
> So thanks, and I hope you enjoy.

The growl intensified to a series of ear-splitting barks, all coming from a place far too high overhead for comfort. Cerberus, easily fifteen feet tall with deep blue-black fur, stalked from the tunnel into the sliver of light that fell just inside the gate, all six of his eyes fixed on the three figures standing outside.

Dean took an instinctive step back. He was tense, his heart pounding wildly; the thing reminded him far too much of a hellhound. Gaia stayed where she was, looking at him curiously. He didn't notice the light touch of her fingertips to his wrist as he passed by. By the time he faced her, her hands were on her hips, a bemused smile on her face.

“Don't freak out. We’re safe out here. He can’t go outside the gate.” Dean eyed the shaggy mutt again before turning back to Gaia, trying desperately to keep the panic off his face.

“Please tell me there’s a reasonably easy way to get past that thing in one piece.” To Dean's surprise, she walked straight up to one of the heads and scratched its chin; the other two snarled and kept close watch on Sam and Dean. She started on another head's ears as she spoke.

“To my knowledge, only one mortal has gotten past him alive: Orpheus. He got past by singing to Cerberus until he was so mesmerized that he let Orpheus stroll right in.” Sam took a step forward, jumping when the biggest head barked sharply at him. The sound rolled around like thunder, louder than any dog had a right to be.

“I’m hearing a really big but at the end of that sentence, Gaia.” She stopped scratching and turned around, pitching forward when the third head impatiently knocked her in the back with its nose. She patted it on the forehead.

“…but Orpheus was also the John Lennon of ancient Greece. And I doubt Cerberus is much of a Metallica fan, so your karaoke talents aren't going to be of much help here." She walked back and stood next to Dean, surveying Cerberus thoughtfully. He rocked on his heels nervously and turned to her.

“At the risk of sounding like a broken record, can you maybe magic us past this part? Maybe zap Fido so he goes to sleep or something?” Gaia glanced sideways at him, raising an eyebrow. He shot her a pleading look.

"All that would do is annoy Hades, which is incredibly counterproductive to our endgame." Sam pointed towards the dog, who was stalking them from the gate, all three of its heads baring their yellowed teeth.

"So is getting eaten." Gaia was silent, weighing their options. She threw her head back suddenly, looking up in a manner that very much suggested _'Dear Zeus, what was I thinking?'_ before tying her hair back and stepping forward to square off with the dog again.

“The only requirement is that the two of you physically walk through the gate. I can run interference while you sneak past and then reappear on the other side." She clapped her hands sharply and drew them apart, a long string of crackling blue lightning hanging between her palms. Her fingers combed through it quickly and it separated into three orbs, each expanding rapidly in size.

"I don't know how long this is going to work, so when I tell you to go, you go." 

Sam and Dean both nodded, preparing themselves for a sprint. The orbs floated above Gaia's head, circling slowly, until she raised a hand and pushed them one by one towards Cerberus.  Each one settled in front of a different head, hovering just in front of its nose. One head snapped it up immediately like a puppy eating a treat; it suddenly froze, its eyes unfocused and staring straight ahead. Another sniffed cautiously at its orb before carefully swallowing it; it too went catatonic within seconds.

The third pulled away and growled, trying to avoid the magic altogether. Gaia's hands jerked and the orb flitted around the dog's head, trying to find a way in, and when it opened its mouth to bark she tipped it down its throat with a quick gesture. Laying a palm parallel to the floor she eased Cerberus down to the ground, now apparently in complete control. She finally spoke, her voice resonating with that same powerful echo that it always did when she was using magic.

"Now."

Sam and Dean took off down the tunnel, sprinting like a pack of wendigos were on their tail.

~~~

They burst into the open air at the other end and very nearly bowled Gaia over.

"Well, that was easy." She gave them a quick grin as they leaned against the rock face to catch their breath. Sam almost wanted to smack the good mood out of her. Hopefully there wouldn't be any more damned portals. Standing up and checking that he still had all of his equipment, he peered back down the tunnel.

"What the hell did you do?" Gaia waved a hand dismissively.

"Hypnotized him with my flower powers. He'll be alright in a minute." Dean joined them, adjusting the angel sword in his belt.

“So, what now?” Gaia climbed up onto a boulder and surveyed the scenery in front of them; they appeared to be on the edge of a valley. A vast, misty expanse of field stretched in front of them, and they were surrounded by mountains. To the right was an odd red glow. Sam felt slightly sick just looking at it. Shaking off the feeling, he tuned back in.

“We go drop in on Hades. His palace is in the Asphodel Fields, which is straight ahead.” Gaia indicated the cloud of fog in front of them. Sam exchanged a glance with Dean; he could have sworn he'd seen something moving around in there. Looking around for anything else to think about, he was struck by a question.

“Gaia?”

“Yeah, Sam?”

“Which way is Elysium?” Gaia gave him a soft smile, holding out a hand to pull him up on her boulder. He was a bit shocked when she lifted him like he weighed nothing. She pulled Dean up too, and then stood behind them, arms around their shoulders.

“You see that mountain over there? Not the big one, the one to the right of it, at about ten-thirty or so?" Sam nodded; the mountain was marked by a split in its jagged peak above the treeline, as though someone had taken a chisel to it.

"Just beyond that is a caldera, like the ones in the south of Greece, except this one has water that washes up in waves of color. In the middle of the caldera is a massive island, and that’s Elysium.” Releasing them, Gaia turned and jumped off the rock, landing lightly on the ground. Sam jumped down next to her, his knees aching from the impact, Dean following shortly after. She started across the few clear yards of field towards the mist as Sam jogged to catch up.

“What’s it like?” She shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’ve never been.” Dean scoffed at her.

“Why not? It's paradise. That's the first place I'd be booking it to, if it were me with your kind of juice.” Gaia stopped right at the edge of the mist, staring into it and drawing her bow.

“Elysium is for the blameless heroes and the blessed among men. No gods allowed." Sam and Dean each drew their own weapons; Dean his angel sword, and Sam a wicked-looking silver sickle. Drawing even with Gaia, Sam peered into the mist as well. There was definitely something moving around in there.

"That kind of sucks." She shrugged again.

"Honestly, I'm not all that upset about it. We get Olympus, you get Elysium. Seems fair to me.” Turning around, she leaned on her bow.

“Okay, basic ground rules: One, stay close. I don’t want to have to track you down because you decided to wander off.

"Two, don’t talk to or touch the stiffs. It won‘t hurt them a bit, but it will not be pleasant for you." Sam nodded wearily, remembering the horde of dead in the cave.

"Yeah, we're familiar with spirits." Gaia gave a curt nod.

"Good. Three, for the love of Zeus don’t eat or drink anything you see down here. I don’t care how good it looks, it’s not worth it.” Nocking an arrow, she waved them up beside her.

"Alright, so stick close. Asphodel's low on visibility and high on creep factor, so don't be surprised if you find yourself seeing things moving in the mist. This is where the majority of the dead go, and they tend to just...wander around, being creepy."

They advanced into the fog. It was completely and utterly silent; not a single sound, including their footsteps over the grass, could be heard. Were it not for Gaia’s solid bulk right next to him, Sam would have been completely and utterly lost; the fog was thick enough to completely obscure his vision any more than about three feet in front of his face. He could barely hear his own heartbeat; unlike in the cave, nothing seemed to echo at all. If he didn’t know any better, he would have thought this was something close to oblivion.

Suddenly a dark mass passed by on his left, trailing a hand as it went by. It circled back and approached slowly, reaching out for him. He could see its broken, dirty fingers coming closer, and he lashed out with his sickle. The thing retreated into a wisp of fog. Gaia had a hand on his shoulder immediately, her tone warning.

“Sam...”

“It tried to touch me.” Several more of the dead gathered around, but they didn’t try to touch him. Sam held his sickle out threateningly anyways. They continued on for a few more minutes in silence before Dean spoke up, startling everyone.

"Can one you talk, or something? The silence is freaking me out." Gaia chuckled, her face almost invisible.

“Sure. When did you get eaten by hellhounds?” Dean was quiet for a moment, and Sam couldn’t decide if he was trying to contain shock or annoyance at her asking.

“How could you possibly know…”

"Tactile telepathy. One of my things." Gaia drummed the fingers of her left hand along her bow pointedly. Sam stepped away slightly; they were both wearing jackets, and it probably had to be skin-to-skin contact, but it never hurt to be safe.

“So you go around touching people to see inside their heads?” Gaia kicked him lightly in the ankle.

"Are you kidding? Day-to-day human thought is boring as hell, and you people are more touchy-feely than a bunch of drunken octopuses, I'll have you know. I do my best to avoid it."  The fog began to thin, and then disappeared entirely minutes later, taking the shadowy bodies with it.

One lingered after them, watching them leave, and Gaia drew her bow and shot, the arrow slicing clean through where the neck would have been. The spirit blinked out of existence quickly. Gaia put away her bow and Sam hung his sickle back on his belt. Dean stood a few feet away, his back to both of them.

“When did you touch me?” Gaia watched him for a long moment before answering.

"Back at the entrance a few minutes ago. You were looking at Cerberus and thinking about hellhounds. We bumped into each other.”

Dean nodded and turned to face them. Sam couldn’t tell what his brother was feeling, but it wasn’t good; he had that hard set to his jaw that meant he was seriously pissed. Gaia continued on, either not seeing it or not caring.

“So are you gonna tell me what the deal is, or not?” Dean shot her a hard stare.

“Probably not.” They stood in silence, staring each other down. Gaia was the first to back off, holding out her hands.

“Suit yourself. Come on, this part I can magic you past.” Sam and Dean took them hesitantly, trying not to think anything unflattering. The world twisted around them, and they found themselves standing in another place entirely.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean opened his eyes to find himself standing in a lush, steamy garden.

“Whoa.” He turned slowly on the spot, taking in the sight. It reminded him of the woods around Gaia’s house, except it felt as though he were seeing it in high definition; everything was greener, the leaves shone brighter, the stars shimmering—

Wait.

He stepped into a small clearing and looked up, entirely confused. They were underground. How the hell were there stars?

He wandered around for several minutes, eventually coming to a wall. It was tiled in black granite, extending up as far as he could see, meeting another wall a few feet away to form a corner. So Hades had his own indoor forest, the pretentious dick. Dean could hear water off to his left; he started off towards it, hoping that Sam, at least, would have thought to go there was well. He checked his charm quickly, finding it completely dark. Gaia wasn’t anywhere near.

He found the source of the water quickly; it was a fountain, a massive marble thing dripping with crystal-clear water that poured from somewhere in the starry sky. It wasn’t until he saw it that he realized exactly how thirsty he was; he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since before they’d left, which had been a few hours ago. Gaia had warned them about the food and drink down here, but maybe water was okay. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He reached down to take a bit of it in his hand; it was shockingly cold.

Suddenly his charm flared into life, and Gaia’s voice broke through the spell.

“Dean Winchester, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” He dropped his handful of water and turned. She strode up to him and grabbed his hand, which flared with heat; when it died down it was completely dry.

“Don’t. touch. Even a drop will screw you. Are you okay other than getting hit with fountain mojo?” She took him by the shoulder and turned him around, inspecting him head to toe. He shook her off, gesturing around the room.

“Yeah. What happened? Where’s Sam?” Gaia sighed, rubbing her temples.

“Sorry, it’s been a few centuries since I had passengers. I lost you on the way. Sam’s in the antechamber to the throne room. You ready?” She extended a hand to him again. He hesitated, looking up at the sky (ceiling?) again, frowning.

“What’s with the stars?” Gaia grinned at him.

“Diamonds and sapphires embedded in the roof. Hades is also the god of precious metals. Come on, Sam’s waiting.”

The world twisted again, and they appeared in a small room decorated with nothing but a column of violet flame.

~~~

"So we walk through the weird purple fire and we're in?" Sam circled the flame suspiciously. The last time he and Dean had seen anything remotely like this, it had been some kind of wraith hell-bent on sucking the souls out of an entire town in Iowa.

"Yep. Even I can’t go straight into the throne room. But don't worry. Of all the crap down here, this is the thing least likely to kill you." Gaia stepped in and vanished in a flash. Dean shook his head wearily, walking around to where she had entered.

"I am so done with portals.” He stepped in after her, leaving Sam alone. Sam groaned and closed his eyes as he followed Dean through, expecting another fight to the other side. He heard Gaia’s voice almost immediately, close to laughter.

“Sam, are you expecting to see Medusa? Open your eyes.”

The first word he could come up with to describe the room was _posh_. The second was _creepy_. Tapestries hung from the walls, all worked in patterns of purple, silver, and black; the carpets on the floor were the same. Greek vases were scattered everywhere, full of various plants that looked like they were capable of killing him all on their own. And everywhere he looked, embedded in the walls, the ceiling, set into the furniture, there were gems and gold and silver. It was freezing cold, and he wasn’t quite sure where the light was coming from; there weren’t any candles or light fixtures that he could see. The pervading sense in the room, though, was that of a tomb.

"Gaia." Sam and Dean both jumped; a man, tall and almost painfully thin, entered the room. He was incredibly pale and blonde, the kind of coloring one might expect on those weird cave-dwelling salamanders Sam had spent so much time reading about in fifth grade. Like Gaia, he looked young despite what was likely a millennia-long lifespan, but where she was healthy and vibrant he appeared to be wasting away. He glided across the space between Gaia and himself soundlessly, stopping just out of arm’s reach.

Yeah. Creepy was definitely the best word for this guy.

"Hades. It's been a couple centuries." Gaia stepped forward, putting herself between Hades and the Winchesters. Hades’ eyes flicked over them, flashing phosphorescent as they did so. Apparently finding them unworthy of his attention, he focused on Gaia.

"It certainly has. To what do I owe the sudden pleasure?" Hades swept her head to toe with a glare of disdain. Gaia’s hand flexed at her side around her invisible bow, and Sam could have sworn he saw her grow an inch or two. The animosity in the room was deafening.

"It’s certainly not a social call. I'm here to make a deal." Hades smirked, his eyes flashing in the dim light. He walked over to the larger of the two thrones positioned against the wall and sat in it, crossing one long, spidery leg over the other.

"Good to know you're still as warm and maternal as ever, Mother Earth. Can’t imagine why the people stopped worshiping you.” Gaia stood in front of him, Sam and Dean following silently behind. Sam wasn’t quite sure if he was supposed to speak at some point, but he figured Gaia would tell him if he needed to; he wasn’t getting in between two pissed-off members of the god squad if he could possibly help it.

“And I see you’re still a cold-hearted bastard. Some things never change.” Gaia and Hades stared each other down for a moment before beginning a sudden, rapid-fire exchange.

“How can I help you?"

“I need Thanatos’ knife.”

“And?”

“Do you have it?”

“I do not.”

“Do you know where it is?”

“I do.”

“Where is it and what do you want for the information?”

“What do you want the knife for?” Gaia glanced at Sam, and then Dean. Telling was dangerous; given the mood in the room, it couldn’t be put past Hades to alert Cas to what they were up to. They also ran the risk, though, of him refusing. Gaia raised an eyebrow at them questioningly, and Sam gave a small shrug back.

“I assume you’ve heard about the angel Castiel?” Hades gave her a stony glare.

“I have. One can’t be the Lord of the Dead and not hear about all the souls being lifted from Purgatory.” Realization washed over his face and he stood. In the blink of an eye he was towering over Gaia. She didn’t flinch, and simply crossed her arms and glared up at him.

“You want to kill him.” She sighed and shook her head.

“That’s the problem. I don’t want to kill him, which is why I need the knife.” Hades studied her carefully before flicking his pale gaze to Sam and Dean. Sam just barely managed to suppress the chill that ran down his spine.

“Now why would you want to save an angel?” Gaia sidestepped around him to put herself between Hades and Sam and Dean again, planting her feet stubbornly into the carpet pile.

“That’s my business. What do you want for the information?”  Hades backed off and returned to his throne, preening.

“Your solemn vow that you will act upon it as I wish once it is given.” Gaia raised an eyebrow.

“No teasers?” Hades shot her a condescending grin.

“Now that would be telling, wouldn’t it?”

“That’s not fair.” It was out before Sam even realized he’d spoken. Both gods whirled to face him, Gaia hissing his name in admonishment. Hades’ phosphorescent stare settled on him, and Sam found himself frozen in place, like a rat mesmerized by a snake. 

“And who are you, who dares interrupt the gods?” Sam looked to Gaia for a cue. She nodded once, jerking her head towards Hades. Sam stepped forward. Dean came with him, and Sam glanced at him gratefully. He wasn’t sure what it was about this guy, but Hades made him feel about half as tall as he actually was.

“Sam Winchester. This is my brother Dean.” Hades made a small noise of recognition, his unblinking eyes never leaving Sam’s face.

“You brought the Winchesters?” he said to Gaia, who was standing to the side, tense and at attention. It wasn’t doing Sam’s nerves any favors; Gaia’s instincts were pretty good, and if she had reason to be on edge, he probably had reason to be shit scared. She spoke carefully.

“They’re hard-headed idiots. I couldn’t stop them.” Hades grinned, clearly enjoying the tension. He was close enough for Sam to see that his teeth were yellowed and jagged.

“Go ahead, Sam. What part of that deal is not fair?” Sam suddenly recalled Gaia’s words to them in the cave. _He can toss you into Tartarus just for looking at him cross-eyed, and it could be centuries before I would be able to bargain you guys out. If at all._

Shit.

Sam’s mind raced, trying to decide how to respond. He finally decided on honesty, banking on Hades being amused by what he obviously considered an inferior opinion.

“All of it. You’re gonna make her swear to do something without telling her what it is first?” Hades scoffed, speaking to Sam as if to a particularly slow child.

“That’s her risk. She’s a big girl.” Sam was shaking more than he would have liked, and Dean touched his arm briefly. He shook him off and took several deep breaths, trying to slow down his heartbeat. Hades was facing Gaia again, having apparently decided that Sam and Dean were beneath his notice.

“Your answer?” Gaia was silent for several seconds, turning the proposition over in her mind.

“Will you swear to the truth? And an oath of secrecy, as well.” Hades bowed his head deeply. Gaia smirked, satisfied.

“I’ll take it. Call for the nymph.” Sam shared a surprised stare with Dean. That wasn’t a sentence you heard every day.

Within a few minutes a beautiful young woman had appeared, holding a length of black silk rope. Gaia and Hades clasped hands with some reluctance while she tied the rope around their wrists in an incredibly complicated knot, whispering to herself as she did so. She laid her hand on top of Hades’ shoulder and he began to speak.

“I, Hades, Lord of the Dead and Ruler of the Underworld, do swear upon the holy Styx that I shall provide the information sought by Gaia, Earth Mother, and that the information shall be veritable and true. Also do I swear that I shall remain silent upon this matter to all except those currently present.”

The nymph spoke a word, and then laid her other hand on Gaia’s shoulder.

“I, Gaia, Earth Mother, do swear upon the holy Styx that I shall receive the information I seek from Hades, Lord of the Dead and Ruler of the Underworld, and act upon it in a manner befitting the situation and the wishes of the Lord Hades himself.”

The rope began to smoke, and both Gaia and Hades hissed in pain. The rope was burning into their skin like acid, leaving angry reddened marks as it crumbled away into ash. The nymph caught the remains in her hands and sealed them in a small pouch that hung around her waist before bowing to both the gods. They bowed back, and she backed out of the room silently. They both backed away from each other, rubbing their burned wrists; the marks had faded to pink scars. Hades took his throne again.

“Lamia has the knife.” Gaia stopped short, blinking at him in disbelief.

“You have got to be kidding me.” Hades smirked at her and reached for a bottle sitting on the table next to him, pouring himself a glass of wine. Sam noted, with some annoyance, that he didn’t bother offering any to Gaia.

“I’m not. I sent Thanatos to collect her and he never returned. I can only assume she still has it.” One of the scars around Hades’ wrist disappeared as he brought his glass to his lips. Dean turned to Sam, raising an eyebrow in confusion. Sam shrugged; they’d have to ask Gaia about it later.

“What do you want me to do with it once I find it?” Hades answered with pointed silence. Gaia sighed and turned to Sam and Dean, holding out her hands.

“Come on, boys. We have a bloodsucking ancient queen to kill.”

~~~

“Call for the nymph? God, I didn’t think people actually said stuff like that.”

“People don’t. Gods do.”

Gaia hopped over a fallen log, jogging ahead of Sam and Dean. They were winding their way through a ravine at the base of one of the Underworld’s many steep mountains; Lamia’s cave lay in the direction of Tartarus, just beyond the Phlegethon. They didn’t have a whole lot of time; she didn’t want to keep the mortals downstairs any longer than necessary, and the longer they stayed, the more time passed in the Overworld. She didn’t want to give Castiel any more time to make plans than she could possibly manage to avoid.

“So the swearing…”

“An oath sworn on the Styx is an oath you can’t break, which is why I almost never do it and I consider my wording very carefully when I do. I can’t even try to welch. I’m physically compelled to hold my end up, and so is Hades.” She heard Dean swear as a branch grazed his face. She was setting a hard pace, but they were young. And if Sam still had enough breath to be asking questions incessantly, he had to be doing fine.

“And the scars?”

“They go away after you fulfill your oath.” Dean called out for her to stop, and she considered it; they’d been running for the better part of an hour, and neither of them had complained. They were holding up remarkably well, considering the circumstances. She slowed, finding a safe place in which they could rest, and reached into the little fold of space in which she kept her bow; finding what she was looking for, she tossed it to Sam, who was looking at it suspiciously.

“I thought we weren’t supposed to eat or drink anything down here?” She gave him a grin for remembering, pointing at the bottle.

“Only stuff originating from down here. I brought that from the Overworld. Drink up.” Sam took several long gulps, and then handed the water bottle to Dean. He offered it to Gaia, who shook her head.

“Don’t need physical sustenance. One of the perks of being immortal.” Dean shrugged and handed the bottle back to Sam, and then flexed his legs.

“God, you couldn’t just take us there?” Gaia snorted, nailing him in the shoulder with a pebble.

“You’re getting spoiled, Dean.” She stood up and stretched, gauging the power she had left. Physically she could go on almost infinitely, but she wasn’t doing so well in the metaphysics department. She was getting to be an old, old lady.

“I only have so much juice to work with. I’m gonna need it to fight. Just be glad I didn’t make you climb that mountain.” Sam stood, shaking out his long limbs. Dean glared at them both, staying stubbornly on his rock. Sam didn’t seem to notice; instead, he pointed at one of Gaia’s sleeves, where she kept her daggers.

“Don’t we need a silver knife blessed by a priest or something for a lamia?” Sam tossed the water bottle back to her and she put it away. Dean finally stood up, and they began to walk; she set an easier pace this time, as the blistering heat of the Phlegethon was beginning to emanate through the trees. They were getting closer to Tartarus.

“This isn’t a lamia, Sam. This is Lamia. The Lamia. Capital L.” Honestly, she would have thought the kid would know this crap.

“The difference being?”

“Reader’s Digest version: Lamia, Queen of Libya, began sucking the blood of children after her own were murdered by Hera out of jealousy. The things you’ve met were named after her.” The story wasn’t an uncommon one; Hera did a lot of the things she did out of jealousy. Of course, she wouldn’t be killing children out of jealousy if Zeus wasn’t such a tool, but that was a story for couple’s therapy. She sighed inwardly; her family was far more screwed-up than she liked to admit.

“Right. And blood-sucking bitch is only killed by?” Dean had caught up to her and was walking alongside, his manner businesslike. She wondered if he was like this on normal, non-interdimensional hunts.

“Thanatos’ knife, of which she is currently the sole proprietor.” He made a sour face, irritated at the turn of events.

“Wow. Yeah, that is a problem.”

“No kidding. So, current game plan is to sneak in, find the knife, kill Lamia, bring proof she’s dead back to Hades, and then book it—“

There was a sudden crash behind them. They both whirled around to see Sam on the ground, convulsing violently. Gaia’s bow was in her hand instantly, searching for any attackers; there wasn’t anything in this part of the Underworld that could do something like this that she knew of, but that didn’t mean something new hadn’t popped up. Echidna was having babies all the time. Dean ran straight to Sam, gripping him tight by the shoulders.

"Oh god, Sam, not now, don't do this now..." Satisfied that they weren’t being blitzed, she put away her bow and knelt on the ground next to Sam’s body.

"Dean, what in blazes is happening?" Dean looked at her, terrified, as another spasm shook Sam.

"In the Apocalypse, he- Sam's soul got shredded in the fight, and ever since he's been having these seizures. He says he hallucinates about Hell." Gaia grabbed Sam’s hand; there were flashes of light among utter darkness, and a sense of cold, but what she got most of all was an overwhelming sense of unending fear and pain. She jerked her hand back and stared at Dean in horror.

"Yeah, he's there right now." Dean was close to tears, cradling Sam in his lap.

"Can you do anything? Go in, do your telepathy thing, get him back?" Gaia shook her head vehemently. Bad idea. Very bad idea. Worst idea since taking them down there in the first place.

"I can't just dive in there and start messing with him, Dean. It could seriously hurt him. I could kill him." Dean looked at her pleadingly.

"This is worse than it's ever been. Do something. Please."

Another spasm ripped through Sam, and he groaned loudly in pain. Gaia berated herself about the dangers; she really could kill Sam, Dean would never forgive her, she’d never forgive herself. But she couldn’t just leave him.

She laid her hands on his head and closed her eyes, slipping into his turbulent mind, and when she opened them again she was in Hell.

~~~

It was the same thing, over and over; Lucifer and Michael would batter the doors of the Cage, trying to break out. They’d smash into the walls, hit at the locks, and roar so loudly in frustration that Sam thought he’d go deaf. And then they’d get bored, and they’d come after him.

They’d left him alone for now, and he was curled up in the corner, trying to warm himself up; Dean hadn’t been kidding when he said hell was cold. It was a fruitless effort, but it gave him something to think about other than the two angels crashing around the Cage.

There was a small flash, and he flinched; it must be one of the angels coming after him. He turned his head to see which one of them it was and was surprised to see the toe of a leather boot. He followed the leg it was attached to up to the leather-clad torso, and then the face; Gaia’s eyes, warm and concerned, looked back at him. He scrambled to his feet, pushing her behind one of the broken rocks that littered the floor.

“Gaia? Gaia, this is Hell. You’re not supposed to be here. You have to leave. They‘re gonna kill you.” She cocked her head, seeming entirely unconcerned with the angels. Reaching out, she smoothed his hair back from his face.

“Sam, you have to listen to me. This isn’t real.” Sam stared at her, and then turned around to point at the rest of the Cage, where Lucifer and Michael were taking turns throwing themselves at the gate, rebounding off the walls and shrieking in frustration.

“How...how can you say that? Look at it! Look at them!”Gaia shook her head, her face solemn.

“It’s not real, Sam. You’re inside your own head.” Sam collapsed against the rock, head in his hands. The entire Cage shook as Lucifer bounced around the room.

“No, I’m not. How could I be? How do you know?” Gaia knelt beside him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

“How could I be here otherwise? You didn’t know me when this happened. Open your eyes, Sam.” Sam thought back to the process of how he’d gotten here; getting the rings, Cas dying (oh god, Cas, we have to save him), jumping in. She was right; she wasn’t there. He couldn’t remember anything after that. But he knew Gaia. How did he know Gaia? He scrubbed his face with his hands.

“They are open. I’m looking right at you.” When he took his hands away Gaia had disappeared, although he could still hear her speak.

“No you’re not. Open your eyes.” He leapt to his feet, terrified.

“Gaia, please...”

“It’s not real. Open your eyes.”

~~~

"Open your eyes, Sam."

Sam stopped convulsing, and slowly opened his eyes to look up at Dean. Gaia took her hands off his forehead and sat back on her heels, snapping back to herself as quickly as she’d left. Dean watched his brother closely, looking for any signs of distress.

"Oh thank god, Sammy. Just breathe, kid." Gaia had to take a minute to get herself under control; not from the unexpected mental trip, but from the sheer rage that was now surging through her. She spoke through gritted teeth.

"Are you okay, Sam?"

"Yeah, I'll be alright in a minute." He sat up and rubbed his head where he’d hit it in the fall, checking for blood. He looked back at Gaia and froze at the fury evident on her face.

"Good. Because I am about to _tear you a new one_."  She stood, pacing the ground in front of them.

"Your soul is in _pieces_. You are suffering _debilitating seizures_. They are _getting worse_.

"Did it never cross either of your stupid mortal brains that this might be something that I would need to know before even considering taking you down here? I can't just send you home with a godsdamned note because you're sick." Sam staggered to his feet and leaned against a tree.

"I'll be fine in a few minutes. It doesn't change anything." Gaia tossed her hands in the air, swearing in every language she knew.

"This changes everything, idiot. Do you know what's most likely setting it off? Go ahead, tell me. Since the two of you clearly know what's going on down here better than I do." She glared at them pointedly. When they didn’t answer, she threw a hand towards the ominous glow behind her.

"Tartarus. With the exception of the name, there's basically no difference between it and Hell. It's only gonna get worse the closer we get. If we stay too long you could very well go insane." The statement had the opposite reaction Gaia expected; Dean, rather than Sam, went deathly pale, and seemed to panic.

“So let’s just teleport past it.” Gaia growled in frustration, earning a glare from Dean.

“I’m not kidding when I say I only have a limited amount of power. Zapping you there means I have that much less to work with, which makes me less effective in a fight, and I have less juice to get you home. I’m not without limits.” Dean opened his mouth to say something, but Sam silenced him with a hand on his arm.

"Could you put up a wall around the memories? Death did something like that; it kept me safe for a while." Gaia shook her head vehemently.

"A wall like that would last maybe fifteen minutes in this place before it'd collapse, and then you’re definitely dead.” Sighing, she turned to face the trees; they were close enough that the red light of Tartarus was filtering through, making the forest look like it was soaked in blood.

“No, the best course of action is to get this crap over with and book it out of here."

 


	9. Chapter 9

“Come on, Sam. Concentrate. What’s wrong this time?”

Sam squinted, leaning heavily on Dean while Gaia’s cool fingers touched his forehead. He struggled to hold on to the quickly shifting image of her face in front of him, watching Hell and the Underworld fade in and out over one another. He looked around, and then down at himself.

“Clothes. S’not right. Wasn’t wearing this shirt.” Gaia smiles at him and the world resolves around her again, leaving him shaky and out of breath. Gaia’s been coaching him in keeping his hold on reality while they walk towards the Phlegethon; the core of the technique is apparently to find some small detail that doesn’t fit with his original memory and focus on it, to remember that it’s not real.

The first time it had been Gaia herself, the wrongness of her presence in Hell; the next few times it had been the layout of the Cage, and then Lucifer hadn’t looked right. Each time it had gotten a little easier, until they’d left the forest and stood on the bare bank of the Phlegethon itself. Standing near it had nearly caused him to collapse again.

“What _is_ the Phlegethon anyways?” He had to shield his face from its heat, and there were odd shrieking sounds coming from it. Gaia led them to a worn-looking stone bridge, her face twisted with distaste.

“The river of Hate. It’s a flaming river that carries people into Tartarus, reserved for the worst of the dictators and tyrants and murderers. Getting dunked in it burns you down to your naked soul.” She grabbed Sam’s hand and pulled him towards the bridge, Dean trailing close behind.

“Whatever you two do, don’t look down when you cross. You won’t thank yourselves if you do.”

The shrieks only got louder as they crested the bridge, and Sam resolutely stared at Gaia’s feet in front of him. He’d seen enough of Hell for one lifetime. Dean, however, glanced over the edge. His eyes widened in horror and he jerked his head back, running to catch up.

“What’s in there?” Sam whispered to him.

“People,” Dean whispered back. “All burned, screaming for help. I think I’m gonna be sick.” Gaia turned her head to call back to him.

“What, you thought I was joking?”

~~~

The only things marking the entrance to Lamia’s cave were several small pillars holding up a section of ruined roof. Dean squatted in a small hollow in the wall to set Sam down, wedging him between two boulders to keep him propped up.

 “Alright, Sam, _stay here_.” Gaia crept in behind him, both her daggers in her hands; there wasn’t enough room in the small space for her to get her bow out. She sheathed one and grabbed him by the elbow, pulling him away to speak. Dean wasn’t sure why she bothered, since all they gained in distance was about six inches.

“Actually, Dean, it’s probably best if he comes with us.” Dean stared at her.

“We’re about to go in and fight a vampire queen thing, he’s only firing on half his cylinders, and you want to _take him with us_?” They both looked at Sam, who had curled up on the floor with his head resting on his knees. Gaia shot him a look of sympathy before turning back to Dean.

“It’s that or leave him here for the chimeras.” Dean’s face screwed up in confusion.

“For the…do I even wanna know?”

“Probably not.” There was a soft clattering of falling rock a few yards away from them, and Gaia turned to scan the cave entrance again. The dim space was still empty, but the set of her shoulders told Dean that she didn’t think it would be for long. Dean hooked a hand under one of Sam’s elbows.

“Okay Sam, executive decision. You’re coming with us. Can you stand?” Sam stumbled to his feet, trying to focus on Dean’s face.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He was so, so not good, but Dean would rather have him where he could see him than leave him to be eaten by the chimineas or whatever.

They drew their weapons and made their way into the cave, Dean keeping one hand on Sam. He seemed to be doing better the further inside they got; he wasn’t stumbling as much, and was getting to be more and more alert. They finally passed the point at which the natural light from outside could filter in, leaving them with only the light from Sam and Dean’s charms. Gaia moved around for a few seconds in front of Dean, muttering to herself, and a torch suddenly flared to life by itself along the wall. She spun around, frowning at the two of them, and Dean was surprised to find that she was equally as confused as he was.

“Gaia, please tell me that was you.” She shook her head, showing him the torch she’d been attempting to assemble by touch alone.

“Definitely not me.” They stared at each other for a moment. Finally Gaia did a sharp about-face and continued walking, apparently having decided to ignore the weird auto-lighting torch. Another one, and then another, lit about every thirty feet or so.

They finally came to a massive, high-ceilinged chamber, scattered with bits of smashed furniture and marble. Large claw-marks had been dug into the walls, and a strange track in the dust on the floor caught Dean’s attention; it looked almost like a sidewinder.

“So what are we looking for?” Gaia took out her bow, scanning the high areas and checking around the corner for signs of life.

“Half-snake, half-woman. She’s hard to miss. Quiet, now.” Footsteps rang out as Sam caught up to Dean, his sickle in hand.

“You doing ok, Sam?” Sam nodded, pushing his hair out of his face.

“Yeah, I’m fine. It’s better when I’m not looking right at-“ He was interrupted by Gaia’s panicked yell.

“GET DOWN!”  
~~~

Sam managed to duck in time. Gaia watched in horror as Dean was hit hard by a massive clawed hand, slashing him across the chest and throwing him across the room into a wall. Gaia cursed herself; she should have sensed it coming. Lamia uncurled herself from the shadows and slid across the floor, laughing maniacally as the rubble shifted aside in her wake. Gaia watched Sam scramble over to Dean out of the corner of her eye; Lamia was too dangerous to look away completely.

“My Lady Gaia. Such an honor to have the Mother of All Gods in my dwelling.” Gaia began circling to Lamia’s left, trying to avoid the sweep of her massive serpentine tail; if she could get herself between Lamia and the Winchesters, they might have half a chance of coming out of it alive.

“Not enough of an honor to not try to kill my friends, I see.” Lamia’s tail hit the cave wall above Sam’s head, scattering rock everywhere. He threw himself over Dean and covered as much of the open wound as he could, speaking to his brother softly the whole time. Lamia hissed and spit at Gaia, who had nocked an arrow.

“He is still alive. I can hear the blood in his veins. It will not flow for much longer though, for I have poisoned him.” Gaia felt her heart stop for a brief moment. The slash from the middle claw, the poison one, passed right over Dean’s heart; if Lamia had managed to hit it, Dean could only have minutes. She would need to heal him fast, which she couldn’t do with the ugly bitch staring her in the face. Gaia pointed at the belt around Lamia’s waist with her chin; a long, gleaming sliver of obsidian was hung from it, glinting in the light from the torches.

“Your time is past, Lamia. I know Thanatos has been here. You have his knife.” Lamia hissed and wriggled with glee.

“I killed him, Mother Titan. I have defeated Death.” Gaia fired her arrow, grazing Lamia’s shoulder. The snake-woman shrieked and lunged, drawing the knife to slash at Gaia. Blocking the jab with her bow, Gaia spun away and nocked another arrow, sending it into the base of Lamia’s tail. Lamia howled in rage.

“You haven’t defeated me, and I’m bound by the Styx to kill you. So you can come easy or I can take you down, but either way I’m taking your head back to Hades.” Lamia lashed out again, this time at Sam and Dean. Gaia was between them instantly, her daggers in hand. Lamia had the advantage in size; Gaia was bent over almost backwards, Lamia’s face inches from her own.

“Mother Titan, have you given thought to why Hades wants me dead in the first place? I would think that such a one as you would hold sympathy for my…situation.” Gaia managed to get a foot up and kicked hard; Lamia flew back, hissing and showing her fangs. Gaia advanced on her, growing in size as she did so.

“My sympathies are complicated. Now are you going to surrender or are we going to have to do this the hard way?” Lamia turned and bolted into the shadows, and silence fell. Sam ran up and tugged on her sleeve; the top of his head hit somewhere between her shoulder and elbow.

“What can I do?” The torch suddenly blew out, and they were left in almost total darkness except for the light of the charms.

“Go protect Dean. I’ll handle Lamia.” Sam nodded and ran to stand over Dean, both sickle and sword in hand.

Gaia stepped cautiously to the center of the room. The whisper of scales echoed around the chamber and she listened carefully, trying to track Lamia’s movements. A sudden rock fall to her left startled her, and she fired instinctively. The arrow hit nothing but marble and clattered to the ground.

She was suddenly raked by Lamia’s sharp claws from behind, stumbling forward. Sam yelped in surprise in front of her, and she looked for him in the dim light; he was still standing, but on guard.

“Sam?”

“Okay! She hit me with her tail.” Lamia chose that moment to strike again, this time at Gaia. Gaia lashed out with her bow and made contact, feeling the vibration move up her arm; the hit would have snapped a mortal’s head off their shoulders, but Lamia simply retreated again. Gaia growled in frustration and began to track Lamia again.

She heard another soft slither, this time right behind her, and felt hot breath on her neck as a clawed hand tangled in her hair, exposing her throat. A happy hiss sounded in her ear.

“You will not kill me tonight, Mother Titan.” Gaia closed her eyes and concentrated hard, gathering up as much energy as she could summon; right as the fangs touched her neck she let loose, a blinding flash of light that left Lamia and Sam both screaming.

She moved almost on instinct alone; one second she was in front of Lamia; the next, across the room taking the angel sword from Sam; there was a solid, wet noise as the sword sliced through Lamia to embed itself into the wall, followed by both her daggers through Lamia’s palms. She found herself staring at Lamia as she twisted and screamed, trying to free herself.

“Gaia! Dean needs help, now.” She broke from her daze and was by Dean’s side in an instant. A quick check of her power level was worrisome; she was running low. She wouldn’t be able to heal him fully. She laid her hands on his forehead. After a few seconds Dean’s eyes opened, and he looked around fuzzily, trying to sit up.

“Wha’ happen?” Gaia flopped back against the wall, breathing hard from the effort of healing.

“You got hit by one of Lamia’s claws. I got rid of the poison and healed everything immediately life-threatening, but you’re still in a bad way.” Dean nodded, and then groaned in pain. Gaia managed a small smile.

“Now aren’t you glad I let your ass freeze out in the forest?” Dean glared at her through a fog of pain.

“Shut up.”

~~~

Sam wandered over to stand in front of Lamia, who was still struggling to free herself from the wall where Gaia had pinned her like a butterfly. He studied her face, which was twisted with rage and snarled and snapped at him every few seconds; if she really _had_ been human once, she would have been very beautiful. He could imagine her being a queen, except for the…snake part. He watched her tail thumping back and forth for a moment before he realized exactly what she was hitting it _on_.

“ _Shit_.” Gaia ran over, concerned.

“What?”

“The knife is cracked. She’s been hitting her tail on it for the past ten minutes.”

“ _What?_ ”

“I said, the knife is cracked.” Gaia strode towards Lamia, bow in hand, and hit her across the face with an audible _crack_. Lamia slumped down, held up only by Gaia’s daggers and the angel sword. Sam shifted her tail aside to look at the knife and Gaia knelt beside him.

“Will it still work?” A spiderweb network of cracks ran all the way up the blade where Lamia had smashed it against the rocks. Gaia picked it up gingerly between thumb and forefinger and handed it to Sam.

“I don’t know. Let’s find out.” He took it from her carefully and looked at Lamia’s still form.

“What do I have to do?” Gaia walked over to check on Dean, very obviously refusing to look at Sam.

“Stab her in the heart. That’s how the thing works.” The thought of Cas crossed Sam’s mind, and he felt sick. Shaking it off, he refocused on the monster at hand.

“You said she used to be human.” Gaia paused thoughtfully.

“Yeah, I did.” She went back to work on bandaging up Dean with strips of t-shirt, wincing apologetically every time he grunted in pain. She shrank back to her normal size and helped Dean sit up, and then waved her scarred wrist at Sam pointedly.

“We still have to kill her, Sam. Hades won’t hold the promise fulfilled otherwise, and you won’t get back to the surface until he does.”

Sam walked over to Lamia and put the tip of the knife to her ribcage. He knew how to do it; you stabbed up hard from the bottom to get under the ribs, not straight in from the top. Dean had shown him a thousand times. But he just couldn’t quite manage to do it; when she wasn’t moving, she really was very beautiful.  
Gaia’s voice called out to him impatiently.

“There is a time and a place for moral crises about the ethics of killing things that used to be human. This is neither of those. Kill the bitch already so we can leave.”

~~~

The three of them stumbled through the portal into the throne room, almost hitting the ground when Dean’s legs collapsed underneath him. Gaia helped Sam set him down and then let loose a deafening bellow that had Sam’s ears ringing for several seconds afterwards.

“HADES!” The tall, thin god glided into the room, grinning at their disarray.

“Gaia. I wasn’t expecting you back so soon.” Gaia tossed Lamia’s severed head at him, and Sam took no small pleasure in the blood that dripped from it onto the lush carpet. Twat.

“Lamia’s dead. Here’s your proof.” Hades handed it off to an underling who had silently appeared beside him. He threw Gaia a humorless smile.

“Excellent. Many thanks.” He finally took notice of Sam and Dean, who were both muddying (Sam) and bleeding on (Dean) his floor. Sneering with distaste, he turned back to Gaia.

“You and your boys seem to be having…difficulties. Might I be of assistance?” Gaia waved a hand dismissively.

“I can take care of them when we get topside. What I need from you is to fix this knife. Lamia cracked it.” She held the knife out to Hades, who took it and examined it. Tossing it back to her, he shrugged.

“This knife cannot be fixed.” Gaia groaned and stuck the knife into her belt carefully.

“Will it still work in the Overworld?” Hades shrugged.

“I cannot say. It would probably work in the Underworld.” Gaia turned to look at Sam and Dean. Sam could see the wheels turning in her head, running through various kidnapping scenarios. She glanced at him and he shook his head; he had nothing. Closing her eyes, she sighed in resignation.

“There’s no way we’re getting Castiel down here willingly. We’ll just have to risk it.”

“We could make a deal.” Gaia spun to face Hades, who was toying disinterestedly with one of the gems on his throne.

“What could I possibly have right now that you would want?” He raised one long finger and pointed straight at Sam and Dean.

“Those boys. Their souls are…enticing, especially the big one. Leave them with me, I’ll open the Underworld to you at a place of your choosing and assist you if necessary.” Gaia stared at him coldly.

“Absolutely not.” Hades grinned and stood, looming over the three of them.

“Not that it particularly matters. I’ll just keep them down here anyways. I’ve got a lovely spot picked out for them in Tartarus.” He snapped his fingers and two servants appeared. Taking Sam and Dean roughly by the arm, they hauled them to their feet and began dragging them from the room. At the mention of Tartarus Sam’s vision began to twist; he shifted between being in the throne room and Hell, struggling to keep his hold on reality. He cast around for some detail to hold on to, to tell him what was real and what wasn’t.

The sickle.

Gaia had given it to him. He hadn’t known Gaia when he’d fallen into the cage. He couldn’t be in Hell. He wrapped his hand around it, comforted by its solid weight, and struggled back into reality in time to hear Gaia speak a single word.

“ _Wait_.” The entire room stopped, watching her as she stepped forward to face Hades.

“I could owe you a favor. One to be determined at a later date.” Hades grinned at her, his predatory smile reminding Sam of a wolf baring its teeth to intimidate its prey.

“Would you be willing to swear?” Gaia nodded slowly, and Sam felt all the breath leave his lungs. NO way could she take that deal.

“Gaia, _no_.” She held up a hand, silencing him.

“Call the nymph.”

~~~

“Do you need anything else?” Sam shook his head, sinking into the couch in exhaustion. After making the deal with Hades, Gaia had wasted no time in getting them out of there ( _Do I have your permission to remove these mortals from your realm,_ she’d said through gritted teeth, and Hades had enjoyed every second of it). Her metaphorical batteries were so low that she’d collapsed for a few minutes after they landed in her front room; even so, she had insisted that they put Dean in the bed, and that Sam take the couch. She tossed a blanket at him and stood to leave when a question suddenly occurred to him.

“Oh, one thing. All the weapons you’ve got have some kind of magical or historical significance or something, right?” She crossed her arms, swaying on her feet.

“Most of them, yes.”

“So why a sickle? It’s the weirdest thing I’ve ever fought with.” He picked it up from the table in front of him, watching it shine in the moonlight. Almost two weeks had passed in the Overworld during the hours they’d spent in the Underworld, and the moon was now nearly full. Gaia sat down next to him, taking the sickle in hand.

“This sickle belonged to Heracles. He slayed the Lernean Hydra with it.” She performed a complicated-looking trick, spinning it around and slashing the air with the silver blade. Sam was speechless.

“And now it belongs to Sam Winchester, who is one of only three mortals to have come back from the Underworld alive, and who slayed the monster Lamia.” She put it gently back into his hand, grinning at him.

“Congrats, Sam. You’re a legend. Go to sleep.”

~~~

Gaia left Sam and walked into the bedroom, where Dean lay with his eyes closed. He wasn’t sleeping; his breathing was too quick and shallow, too pained. He’d need help in that arena tonight.

“You gonna heal me up now?” Gaia sat on the edge of the bed.

“I don’t have enough juice for that. What I _can_ do is put you to sleep, and by tomorrow I’ll be able to fix you up.”

“Sounds good to me.” Placing her fingertips on his forehead, Gaia concentrated on easing the pain and sliding him into a deep sleep, hopefully one that would speed up his healing.

After a few minutes Dean’s breathing finally slowed, and he fell asleep. Gaia eased herself off the bed, taking care not to jostle him awake, and walked across the room, pulling the door closed with a soft click. She strode blindly down the hall, avoiding the scattered obstacles by memory alone, finally reaching the bookcase where she kept the cell phone she used for the sole purpose of reaching Alan when necessary.

Taking it from the shelf and sliding noiselessly past Sam’s nest on the couch, she slipped out the front door and walked towards the woods. She couldn’t stay anywhere near the house; the moon was full and bright and she’d be visible in every direction, and the sound of her voice might wake Sam.

She stopped just short of being within human visual range, but close enough that she could keep an eye on the house. Sitting down on an icy stump, she flipped the phone open and opened the contacts list to the single number she kept there. _Alan Rhodes_. The phone rang five times before he picked up, voice clogged with sleep.

“Gaia? Is that you? Honey, it’s been a week and a half since-” She cut him off sharply.

“I know, Alan. Had some stuff to take care of. Spooky stuff. Don’t ask.” There was silence on the line for a moment before he spoke again, his voice gentle.

“Are you okay?” Gaia examined her nails, stubbornly avoiding the question.

“Of course I’m okay. I’m immortal.”

“That’s not what I meant, honey.” She balanced her head on a fist, sighing.

“Sorry. I’m in a bit of a situation. There’s these guys I’m working with and they’re involved in some heavy stuff and…it’s not looking good, Alan.” She could almost imagine the look he would be giving her, his eyebrows raised and his eyes concerned.

“What’s going on?” She glanced back towards the house; all was quiet. She hadn’t been found out, and no angels had attacked. Mission successful, so far.

“Look, the less you know about it, the better.” Sheets rustled on the other end of the phone as Alan shifted in bed.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Gaia hit herself in the forehead with the heel of her hand, hating herself for what she was about to ask of him. He didn’t need to be involved, but she had no other choice.

“Yeah, actually. There is. I need you to say a prayer for me.”

“What? I don’t think we have any Greek churches in town.” Standing, she began to pace the forest floor; it was cold out, and her feet were beginning to go numb.

“No, it doesn’t have to be at a Greek church. It can be wherever and whenever, but it has to be you. It won’t work if I do it. Get a pen and paper; it’s important that you say this verbatim.” Alan shuffled around for a few seconds.

“Okay, got it. So, who am I praying to? Zeus? God?” Gaia stared back at the house, praying that nobody was listening.

“No. You’re praying to an angel. Her name is Metatron.”


	10. Chapter 10

When Dean woke up three hours later, Gaia was gone.

He rolled out of bed and gasped as pain shot through his chest. Pulling the collar of his shirt away gingerly, he saw three long, pink scars running diagonally from his left shoulder to the opposite hip. He bent experimentally, hissing as the stabbing in his gut increased. Gaia had obviously taken the time to heal him a bit more, but he was still pretty tender in some very inconvenient places. He stood carefully and stumbled into the front room, where Sam was peering out the window from behind the curtains, gun in hand. Dean froze, until Sam uncocked the pistol and turned to him.

“What time is it?” Sam checked his watch, tilting it to catch the moonlight outside.

“About two in the morning.” Dean nodded. They’d gotten back at about 11:00 PM, which had confused the hell out of him until Gaia had explained that it was 11:00 PM a week and a half later. The Underworld apparently operated in the same time zone as Hell. When he thought about it, the similarities were a little close for comfort. Pushing down an image of Alistair’s nauseating grin, he waved a hand at the pistol.

“What’s with…?” Sam looked down at it for a moment, as if he’d forgotten it entirely, before shoving it into the waistband of his jeans.

“There was a weird noise outside. I woke up and she’d split. No note or anything.” Dean joined him at the window; the yard was empty except for a few clumps of nearly-dead grass and one large rock, into which had been carved a single rune.

A voice suddenly rang out behind them in the darkness.

“Sorry boys that was me. The noise, I mean.” Sam’s eyes widened and Dean whirled around to find the source of the voice, flinching at the twinge in his chest. A pair of luminous eyes glowed at him from the shadows in the hall as Hades ducked through the door and glided into the room, smirking at Dean.

“Portals to the Overworld tend to rumble.” Dean folded his arms across his chest, ignoring the stab of pain from the biggest of the scars.

“What the hell do _you_ want?” Hades was across the room in two long strides, his face inches from Dean’s.

“I thought we could have a chat. Not many mortals manage to get into the Underworld, much less slay a monster and then get out to tell the tale.” Dean squared his shoulders and stared down the immortal; he was not gonna be scared by an undead David Bowie.

“Yeah, well. We had some help.” Hades quirked an eyebrow and backed away, sniffing the air.

“Yes, where _is_ my dear grandmother?” Dean shrugged, thoroughly weirded out. It was hard to imagine Gaia contributing to the divine genetics that produced this creep.

“We don’t know.” There was a pregnant pause as he stepped carefully towards the tall god, watching their shadows cross on the moonlit floor.

“Why are you here, Hades?” The deity crossed his arms behind his back, leaning against the wall. It was only now that Dean could really gauge his height. He was more than half a head taller than the doorframe, which even Sam was close to grazing. That would put him close to seven feet of skin and bones.

“Like I said. Thought we could chat, man to immortal.”

“About what?” Hades swept Sam and Dean with his cold gaze again, measuring their reactions. It took all of Dean’s restraint to not squirm under the phosphorescent stare. Finally, the god spoke.

“Has she ever told you exactly what she is, in our mythology?”Dean shrugged carelessly again, to keep up the appearance of bravado.

“Fertility goddess?” Hades scoffed at him.

“Not just that. She’s a Titan, the very first of them. Almost stronger than the gods, and certainly older than us. In fact, she’s the oldest of our pantheon, period, except for Uranus.” Pushing himself off the wall, Hades strolled to a shelf and examined its contents. Picking up a large jewel, he examined it closely before nodding in approval and setting it back down again.

“Even by Titan standards she’s always been something of a prodigy. And we all come from her, gods and Titans and giants. My question is, where does _she_ come from?” Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw Sam sway slightly, putting his hand to his forehead. Dean began to turn, but Sam waved him off, shutting his eyes in concentration; Dean briefly wondered which detail was wrong this time. After a few moments  Sam opened his eyes again, his voice shaking.

"What do you mean?"  Hades tapped a long finger to his temple.

"Think about it, Sam. Put it together with that weird little brain of yours.” Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose and paced the floor, clearly still reeling from the last hallucination. Dean straightened suddenly, remembering a passage from one of Bobby’s books.

“Greek mythology says her mother was Chaos.” Hades waved a hand at him dismissively, his eyes flashing in the moonlight as he rolled them at Dean.

“Chaos doesn’t exist, not as a sentient being. Supposedly it was a big void in the sky that just spat her out. So, I ask you again: where did she come from? And what is she?”

Dean growled impatiently and squared off with Hades, his hands clenched into fists. He’d had just about enough of Skeletor’s bullshit for one night.

"Why do you _care_?” Hades straightened to his full height, a grin slowly spreading across his pale face to reveal his jagged teeth.

“I’m not a fan of other people having secrets. Or rather, having secrets that I can’t use against them.” Dean rolled his eyes. This guy was really getting to be a pain in the ass.

“We’re not going to find out for you, if that’s what you’re asking.” Hades laughed and turned towards the door, shaking his head.

“That’s not what I’m saying at all.” Pausing, he turned and was back across the room in front of Dean.

"One more thing."

"What?" A single slender finger reached behind Dean’s neck and looped around the string holding Gaia’s charm, pulling it out of the neck of his t-shirt. The hair on Dean’s neck stood straight up; Hades’ hand was ice-cold and clammy.

  
"She gave you these charms, yes? I've seen them before. They're not Greek." Pulling away, Dean shared an alarmed glance with Sam, who’d pulled his own charm out to examine. The symbol, which Dean had assumed to be some kind of Greek letter, gleamed bronze in the moonlight. Sam came over and inspected Dean’s charm, which was identical to his, then turned to Hades.

"What are they?" Hades shrugged, nodding towards the charms.

"Best I can tell, they're icons from ruins in ancient Lebanon, what used to be called Canaan. It's an old Semitic pictorial alphabet, one that was used to write down commandments from their God in their original language to be translated into Hebrew." He was silent for a moment, looking between Sam and Dean as if waiting for them to put it together. Dean gestured impatiently for him to continue, earning himself a condescending sneer.

"In other words, bastardized Enochian." 

Dean stared at Hades in shock, his heart pounding. No way. No _way_. Sam stood next to him, blinking in disbelief. Dean shook his head and paced the room, trying to figure out just where the hell Gaia would have learned the language of the angels.

“No. We would have recognized Enochian.” Hades smirked at them, jerking his head towards the door.

“She’s in a clearing in the woods about two miles to the southeast.” Dean stormed towards the door, Sam close behind, when a thought suddenly occurred to him. He stopped short and turned slowly. Hades ducked through the doorway, throwing himself into shadow.

“Why are you doing this? Why should we trust you?” Hades’ pale, incandescent eyes flashed, sending chills down Dean’s spine.

“Go get ‘er, boys.”

~~~

“God, she couldn’t sneak off to somewhere a little easier to get to?”

“I think that was the whole point, Dean.”

Sam and Dean found themselves in the forest again for the second night (week?) in a row. It was much harder going this time than it had been the last. They didn’t have Gaia’s magic to part the trees or protect them from angel attacks, and while there were no ravines to climb, the brush was almost impenetrably thick. And Dean was still wounded. Sam was, to Dean’s great annoyance, having to help him along.

Even worse, they didn’t have any kind of trail to follow, since Gaia’s mojo meant she didn’t have to walk. All they had was Hades’ vague directions and their charms. The things had begun glowing a few minutes ago, the light growing steadily stronger as they walked, and they’d finally had to hide them beneath their shirts to avoid being seen. Even with the full moon out it was dark beneath the forest canopy.

“Sam, look. I think we’re close.” Dean knelt to examine a large rock stained and marked with dark fluid. Sam squatted next to him, leaning in close.

“A banishing sigil?” The blood forming the symbol wasn’t completely dry; it had been made recently. Very recently. Dean ground his teeth together in frustration, glancing around them for any signs of treachery.

“She is up to something _majorly_ sketchy.” Sam nodded in agreement.

“I think the clearing is up ahead.” They crested a small ridge and dropped flat to the ground almost immediately; Gaia was standing in the middle of an opening in the forest, along with another figure.

“Come on, Gaia, what the hell are you doing?” The muscles in Dean’s chest burned as he lifted his head slowly and crept forward for a better look at the pair, trying to figure out why Gaia’s friend was so familiar from this distance. It was a few seconds before he twigged it.

Metatron.

He heard Sam swear softly beside him as he came to the same conclusion. Dean’s stomach dropped, and he found himself shaking with anger. Small fragments of conversation echoed through the forest, and Sam and Dean strained to hear what they could.

“-sick of being used-“

“-Lord knew you would see the-“

“-do I get in exchange for their lives?”

Seething, Dean backed down the ridge and stood up. Sam followed him down, taking more care to hide his movements.

“That _lying_ -“ Sam cut him off with a harsh whisper.

“Shut up, she’ll hear you.” Striding towards the rock with the sigil, Dean took a deep break and slammed his hand into the center. A brilliant flash of white light emanated from the clearing, along with an enraged shout, and when Dean turned around, he was met with a furious Earth goddess. She stared at him for a moment, as if not quite able to put together the sequence of events.

“What the _fuck_ is wrong with you?” Dean blinked in surprise. That was definitely not the reaction he’d been expecting.

“You were the one about to trade us to her. You tell me.” Gaia looked between Dean and Sam and rolled her eyes, and then grabbed them roughly by the shoulders. In the space of a heartbeat they found themselves standing in the spot Metatron had just been in, with Gaia several feet away. A lit match was in her hand; she tossed it to the ground, and Dean watched in disbelief as a ring of white fire exploded into existence around them.

“Holy fire?” Gaia produced the angel blade out of nowhere and tossed it at his feet.

“I was gonna _kill_ her, idiot.” Sam picked up the sword and stepped out of the circle, gesturing angrily at Gaia.

“And you didn’t think to tell us this first?” Gaia made a strangled sound and pointed at Dean.

“You’re both beat all to hell. You’d just get killed. Besides, she’s the goddamn Metatron, Sam. Scribe to the Lord. She knows all the comings and goings of mortals. If I’d told you I’d run the risk of her knowing.” Dean stepped out of the circle, which flickered and died, and replied quietly.

“We’re hidden from the angels. Cas carved us up with runes a while back.” Gaia drew back in surprise. She was silent a moment, and then hummed, satisfied.

“That certainly explains some things.” Dean frowned at her in confusion. Gods were fucking weird. Gaia looked back up and threw him a halfhearted smile.

“Never mind. Did you bring someone with you?” Dean’s confusion only doubled.

“No.”

“I thought I felt…” She circled a hand in the air before waving it dismissively, looking at the moonlit sky. She was tense with worry.

“We need to get out of here, Metatron’s going to be back and she’ll probably bring-“ Her eyes widened suddenly in what, if Dean didn’t know any better, might be called utter panic.

“ _Shit_.” The next time he blinked, she was gone. Dean checked his charm quickly. It was almost completely dark. He turned to Sam, who was equally as freaked.  Gaia didn’t panic. Gaia didn’t run. Gaia didn’t leave them the hell alone with something dangerous headed their way. Dean refused to believe anything less than that she was busy formulating a plan, because otherwise there was something very, very wrong.

Sam suddenly drew back defensively, and a deep, gravelly voice spoke behind him. Dean’s heart stopped cold.

“Sam. Dean.”

Castiel stood behind him in the familiar suit and overcoat, the sight making Dean’s chest ache in a way that had nothing to do with the slashes from the fight with Lamia. Cas’ hands were cracked and bleeding, the veins in his neck and face an unnerving purplish blue, and shadows ringed his eyes. All things considered, he looked like _crap_.

( _He’s dying. Oh my god, he’s dying._ )

“Cas. What are you doing here?” Cas stepped forward and nodded toward the angelic sword in Sam’s hand. Sam immediately dropped it to the ground, where it bounced against a rock with a loud clang. Mid-bounce it flew up into Cas’ hand. He examined it closely, grimacing when he saw the Greek etched into the metal.

“I hear your friend was attempting to set up Metatron. This is unacceptable.” Dean shrugged with more bravado then he felt.

“Believe it or not, we had nothing to do with that. We thought she was setting us up too.”  Cas smirked, taking a few steps towards Dean.  Dean couldn’t help but notice that he carefully avoided the charred ring of grass. Old habits died hard.

“You should be careful what company you keep. Where is she?” Sam jogged to Dean’s side.

“We don’t know. She took off.”  Nodding in acknowledgement, Cas tilted his head, studying Dean intently. It took all of Dean’s concentration to resist the urge to walk over and straighten Cas’ tie for him.

“Dean. You’re injured.” Dean swayed a bit at the reminder of his wound, and Sam leaned into him to keep him upright. Nodding his thanks, he turned defiantly to Cas.

“Yeah, that tends to happen in my line of work.” Cas extended a hand to him, and for a second all Dean could see was the angel that he once knew, smiling back at him.

“Let me heal you.”

Dean leaned forward hesitantly, and Cas settled his hand on Dean’s chest. Pressing down firmly, Cas took a breath; suddenly the pain was just gone, the skin smooth and unbroken under his t-shirt. Dean stumbled a bit in shock. Cas caught him and pushed him back to his feet, whispering in his ear gently.

“Let it not be said that I am cold and uncaring, Dean.” Dean’s heart pounded as he stared back at Cas, one hand wrapped tightly around the angel’s wrist. There was a bloody handprint on Dean’s shirt when he finally let Cas go; the cracks on his palms had opened, and his hands were painted in blood. The sight made the hairs on Dean’s arms stand on end.

“I know, Cas. I just wish-” Dean choked, unable to form the words he wanted to say. _I just wish it wasn’t even a question in the first place._

A golden blast knocked the three of them off their feet.

Cas was back up in an instant, ready to fight. He whirled to face their attacker; the blow had come from over the ridge behind them, where a glimmering light was showing like the sun rising over the horizon. Dean watched, fascinated, as Gaia crested the hill, energy licking up her body like a flame. The next instant she was standing between him and Cas, her aura almost blindingly bright.

Dean looked at Cas, utterly shocked by the expression on the angel’s face; it was one of awe and wonder, mixed with disbelief. Cas approached Gaia slowly.

“ _You_. You live.” She nodded. The ground beneath Dean’s feet vibrated as she spoke.

“I do.” Cas stood stock-still, staring at Gaia with that weird unblinking stare he used to use on Dean.

“How is this possible?” Gaia’s face softened, and she shook her head so minutely that Dean couldn’t be sure she’d moved at all. Dean stood rooted to the ground for several seconds, not quite sure he understood what was going on.

“Wait a minute. You two know each other?”  Cas shot him an annoyed look before turning back to Gaia. He whispered a single word.

"Asherah." When Sam and Dean failed to react, Cas looked at Gaia angrily.

"You have not told them?" She shook her head again, the energy around her glowing brighter as her voice rose.

"Didn't see a reason for them to know. I still don’t think they should." Her voice held a note of warning. Cas scoffed and stepped around her towards Sam and Dean.

"Sam, Dean, You're keeping greater company than you know. This is no Greek goddess." Dean looked towards Gaia. She closed her eyes, a pained look on her face.

“Castiel, do not do this.” Cas glared at her.

“Or you will do what?” The energy around Gaia flared in unspoken threat. Dean stepped between the two hurriedly, taking care not to get too close to Gaia; he wasn’t sure if she would fry him by accident or not right now.

"Gaia, what does he mean?" Cas turned to face Dean, hands spread wide.

"This is Asherah, wife of Elohim, who you know as God." Dean felt the blood rush to his head. Wife of God? God had a wife? A wife who was also the Greek Earth Mother? This situation had gone from bizarre to utterly beyond comprehension. Gaia ( _Asherah_?) glared at Cas as he turned back to face Sam and Dean.

'Simply put, she is Queen of Heaven."


	11. Chapter 11

Castiel had recognized her. It had been _millennia_ , and she had changed so much, but he’d known the second he’d seen her. Maybe she wasn’t as different as she’d thought. Maybe she was more of Asherah than she knew. The thought was terrifying and exhilarating at once.

Gaia gently moved Dean out of the way; this had the potential to get ugly fast, and she wanted to make sure that he wasn’t anywhere near the crossfire if it happened. Castiel stepped towards her slowly, his face full of betrayal.

“Do you have any idea how long I grieved for you? How we all grieved for you?” Guilt stabbed through her, and she reached a hand out to him.

“Castiel-“ His jaw clenched as he stiffened and backed away from her touch, his eyes sweeping her angrily from head to toe. Sam and Dean stood hesitantly a few feet away, unsure of exactly what was going on or how they could help. She hoped with all her might that they would stay there.

“There were angels sympathetic to you. We would have fought for you if you’d returned.” She sighed and shook her head.

“I couldn’t. Look at me. I’m a fragment of who I used to be.” Castiel regarded her coldly, his expression leaving her aching and winded. And to think they had, once upon a time, been as close as mother and child.

“That you certainly are. You have changed, Asherah.” Gaia narrowed her eyes at him.

“I’m not the only one. You’re not the angel I knew.” She was rewarded with a wan smile.

“No. I am greater than that now. I am God, a better one than my Father ever was.” Anger soared through her as she processed the blasphemous thought, and she barely controlled the impulse to explode from rage; she may be less than she used to be, but she was still just as easy to piss off. But she had Sam and Dean to think of now, and they would not appreciate a singeing.

“Tell me, Castiel, have you stood on the edge of the universe with all of Creation in your hands? Have you made life from yourself?” She threw all of her power and will into her voice; it rolled through the forest like a peal of thunder, sending birds streaking from the trees. Sam and Dean had to cover their ears, and even Cas flinched slightly.

“Have you designed anything so perfect or as beautiful as those two creatures watching us? All I’ve seen you do is tear down your Father’s work, to try and reshape it as you see fit.” She stared straight into his eyes, daring him to contradict her.

“You may be well-intentioned, but you are no God.” Castiel stared her down for a moment, and then turned toward Sam and Dean. Gaia disappeared and reappeared between them in an instant, bow out and pointing directly at Cas’ heart.

“You will leave the humans.” The air was charged between the four of them. Castiel spoke first.

“I can protect them better than you ever could. You are not what you used to be.”  Gaia drew the bowstring a little further and anchored her hand to her cheek, ready to let fly.

“I may be fallen, but I am more than a match for you.” He didn’t reply. Instead, Castiel studied her with a look that reminded her of before, when she was still Asherah and he was still young and they weren’t on opposite ends of a war. She read curiosity and interest in his face, although it was tinged with exhaustion and pain. _And maybe,_ she thought, _just maybe, there’s a little bit of love in there too. Unless I’m seeing things._

There was a brief gust of wind through the clearing, and then Castiel was gone. Gaia wasted no time; putting away the bow, she grabbed Sam and Dean by the shoulders and took them home.

~~~

She sat on the sofa with her head cradled in her hands as Sam and Dean threw questions at her one after one; she figured they deserved some answers, after having been lied to for so long. That didn’t make it any less headache-inducing; Dean was incredibly good at firing off sentences at earsplitting volume.

“Where the hell did you go?” That was a long story. She discarded the lecture she would ordinarily give on thermodynamics and particle disruption and went for the easy version.

“Had to gather some power. I wasn’t firing on all my cylinders when Castiel showed up. I had enough to take out Metatron, but he would have fried me like an egg.” Dean considered this for a moment before sitting on the couch next to her. Sam dragged a chair in from the kitchen, sitting across from them both, and leaned on his knees.

“So you’re Asherah.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose. Here came the hard part.

“I’m Gaia.”

“Cas said you were Asherah.”

“But I’m also Gaia. I’m both. Or part of both. Or something.” Both of the boys stared at her, trying to make sense of the dual-identity crisis. Gaia wasn’t exactly sure what she was herself; she considered herself both, but had been living as Gaia for so long that sometimes Asherah was like a half-forgotten dream.  Sam steepled fingers and tried again.

“You’re the wife of God.” Gaia nodded deeply.

“Yes.” Dean frowned in annoyance.

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Would you have believed me?” Dean stared at her hard before conceding, slouching back into the sofa.

“So why aren’t you in the Bible?” She fidgeted with a piece of paper she’d found stuck between the cushions, folding and re-folding it until the seams were worn razor-thin.

“I got written out, for the most part.  The parts I’m in are only there to paint me as a false god and tell people to destroy my altars.” She stood and retrieved a Bible from a precarious stack of books in the corner of the room, flipping it open to the appropriate page.

“Deuteronomy: Break down their altars, smash their sacred stones and burn their Asherah poles in the fire; cut down the idols of their gods and wipe out their names from those places. You must not worship the Lord your God in their way.” Turning the pages, she found another quote.

“Kings: …He shall root up Israel out of this good land which He gave to their fathers, and shall scatter them beyond the river, because they have made their Asherah poles, provoking the Lord to anger.

“Chronicles: And they left the house of the Lord God of their fathers, and served Asherah poles and idols; and wrath came upon Judah and Jerusalem for this their trespass.” She snapped the book shut, looking back up at Sam and Dean. They were watching her silently, their faces unreadable. She turned back to the stack and put the Bible away; she hated being pitied, especially to her face.

“Do I need to continue?” Dean stood, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Just…start from the beginning.” She raised a hand and moved to touch his temple.

“Here, it’ll be easier if I just-“ Dean jerked back, eyeing her outstretched arm suspiciously. _Of course. He hates having people poking around in his head even without the telepathy._ She sighed and motioned him towards herself.

“The telepathy thing goes both ways. Let me show you. You too, Sam.”

They walked over and leaned down so that she could reach, all three of them closing their eyes. When they opened them again, they were in another place entirely.

~~~

 _Great Lady, come now, for they are burning the temple._

These are the only words it takes to send her hurtling through dimensions with all the fury of a mother hearing her child's frightened cry. She never should have left Earth, not while Elohim was still angry with her. Not with His temper, the vindictive streak that ran through Him. She should have known that He would take his rage out on her children, her daughters, rather than face her Himself.

She streaked through the air and landed with an ear-splitting crash in the courtyard, cratering the stones for several feet around. The temple was in chaos. Flames licked up its sides as armed men--Babylonians, from the look of them--stormed in, many of their swords already streaked with blood. They would be upon the courtyard in minutes. The priestess of the temple sprinted to her, falling to her knees.

"My lady, we did everything we could. We could not prevent them coming in. They have smashed the altar and burned everything. I have taken the worshipers with what weapons and artifacts we were able to save into the holy grove." Asherah cupped the woman's face in her hands, kissing her on the forehead.

"I will deal with the soldiers. Remain in the grove and defend yourselves as long as you can." The priestess nodded solemnly, climbing to her feet.

"Remember that you are the blessed daughters of She who is Queen of Heaven. Keep your faith in your hearts and you will not fail." Smiling, the priestess bowed deeply.

"We shall fight in your name, my lady." Asherah drew her sword, already pulsing with power, gesturing towards the grove.

"Go now." The priestess turned and began to run, shouting orders to the stragglers as she passed. Asherah watched as she picked up a small girl, an acolyte barely entered into service, and anger surged in her breast once more; how dare He attack these innocent women. Her blessed daughters.

The heavy doors of the courtyard rattled, the hinges already beginning to splinter under the blow of a battering ram. Tightening her grip on her sword, she strode toward it quickly, preparing to smite any man who stood in her way.  She would not tolerate this blasphemy.

A sudden, soft flap of wings behind her caught her attention. She was across the space between herself and the unknown being instantly, sword already ringing as it clashed against another. She threw her opponent back and prepared for another attack, when recognition took over. Dark, curling hair and a slight build, with nearly-black eyes set into a deeply-tanned face. That peculiar, birdlike tilt to the head. And inside, the hum of energy. That single, unique vibration that belonged only to him: Castiel.

More relief washed over her than she was happy to admit. Castiel was one of the younger angels in the choirs, and a particular favorite of hers. He had not spent much time walking the Earth; that privilege was usually reserved for the archangels, who were oldest and wisest. She had made a point of visiting his garrison often, to tell him stories of the strange, wonderful happenings on Earth. He was particularly curious about the humans, and what made them work, how they thought.

He was also an excellent soldier, which was what Asherah needed most right now. She wrapped her arms around him tightly before releasing him to turn and gesture at the gate, which was on the brink of failing.

"Oh, Castiel. You do not know how glad I am to see you. The Babylonians have attacked, and will be through the gate any second. I can handle them on my own, but I'll need you to get to the grove and help organize the defense there.” She pointed in the direction of the grove with her blade.

“My head priestess has a mind for tactics when she needs it, but she's no soldier, and you're one of the best we have. Are any of the others coming?" She turned back to Castiel, who hadn't moved.

Something was very wrong. He was tense, his entire face drawn with distress, the blade in his hand shaking slightly. He stepped towards her and swallowed thickly, his eyes never leaving her face.

"I have been ordered here by my brother, the Archangel Michael, to inform you that this attack has occurred by the will of the Lord, your master, as retribution for your rebellion against His Word. Continued blasphemy will end only in your annihilation.” He tripped over the last word, eyes wide with fear and nerves.

“No mercy shall be shown to any who fight for your cause. You will repent and submit to His will, or you will be destroyed." Asherah felt her nails dig into her palms as she bit back a sob of rage at Michael's incredible malice.

At fifteen hundred years old, Castiel was a mere child by the standards of the angels. She was without allies and would have to take whoever she could get. She already hated herself for even thinking of asking.  A fresh wave of hatred surged through her. To send Castiel, of all the angels, to deliver this message was unspeakably cruel.  

"Cas, please. Stay with me." He shifted uncomfortably, glancing towards the heavens. She followed his gaze. A swirling mass of cloud was forming, lightning tracing ominous patterns across its undersides. The press of invisible eyes upon them was almost suffocating. Castiel looked back at Asherah nervously.

"I'm ordered to return to the garrison as soon as I have your answer." Asherah stared at him in disbelief. A stab of betrayal rolled through her before she could manage to quash it.

"Cas, I don't have anyone else." He shook his head, his dark curls bouncing wildly.

"I am a soldier in my Father's army. I must follow my orders." She clamped down on the anger that threatened to burst from her; Castiel was young, too young to be here, too young to know which orders to follow and which to defy.

"Cas, I know you're capable of thinking for yourself. Your Father is trying to control me, to enslave my daughters in their own homes. It is _wrong_. You know it is." Asherah gripped Castiel tightly by the shoulders, shaking with emotion.

"You were created to protect these people, Cas, and now he is asking you to mindlessly obey an order to slaughter any who do not admit defeat? You cannot possibly be thinking of obeying."

"My lady...Asherah, _please_. My Father means to have either your submission or your destruction. He has all the armies of heaven at His command. They are ready to march upon you at any moment. Please, repent. Submit and save yourself." Asherah shook him off, trembling with rage.

"Repent? _Submit_? You want me to simply give in, to leave my children here to be raped and beaten and sold like a herd of goats? Are you even listening to yourself? Are you really so blind?"

"Mother, I do not wish for you to _die_. Please, return to Heaven and rule by my Father's side. Ask His forgiveness and you will be welcomed with open arms."

"Snap at his _heel_ , more like. I am not a dog to be leashed." Asherah turned her face to the sky, raising her sword to it in defiance. "Do you hear me, Elohim? Are you listening, King of Heaven?" A deafening peal of thunder rolled down from the sky as the wind picked up, whipping her hair around her face.

"I am Asherah, She who is Queen of Heaven! I do not ask your forgiveness! You shall not have my repentance! _I will not be ruled!_ " She planted her feet on the ground, drawing up energy from the earth; it gathered at the tip of her sword, crackling and snapping, vibrating in her hand. The golden light filled the courtyard as she gathered her power, raising the blade high.

When the energy coursing through her had reached its peak, she _released_.

The sphere shot into the clouds at Biblical speed, crashing into Heaven with a clap loud enough to rattle the earth around her. Bronzed lightning crawled across the undersides of the clouds above like a pack of snakes released from a basket, dissolving into the air with a rolling grumble. The courtyard had fallen deathly silent. She waited.

A bolt of white lightning cracked down, striking her sword, splitting it down to the hilt and knocking it from her hand. She was thrown across the courtyard by the blast, twisting in midair and landing on her feet. Castiel was staring at her wide-eyed, rooted to the spot. The clouds above them boiled angrily, parting to show a starless void. Two words came to her then, commands spoken so low that she felt them more than she heard them.

 _Submit. Obey._

Her hands formed fists as she stared straight into the void, heart pounding.

"No."

There was a moment of quiet, just for a brief second, before the blinding flash that blanked out everything but her awareness of being ripped apart particle by particle, the brief sting of atomic bonds snapping like dried twigs filling her senses as she was swept into oblivion.

~~~

Dean came back to himself with a yelp, swaying on his feet with the force of the vision. Gaia turned away from them quickly as he and Sam recovered, walking to the other end of the room. It took him a few seconds to figure out why: she was crying, sobbing into her hands. He turned to look at Sam, who was just as wild-eyed as Dean himself likely was.

“Oh my god.” Sam nodded quickly, trying to catch his breath.

“Understatement of the _millennium_.” Sam jogged across the room and wrapped his arms around Gaia, hugging her tightly. Dean was still too busy trying to process what he’d just seen to move. God’s wrath, and Asherah’s, was almost too much to comprehend. And Cas had been there, still just a kid, or what the angels thought of as one anyways.

When Gaia had calmed down, he managed to speak, on the edge of hysterics himself.

“Why was he angry with you?” She shrugged miserably.

“He was…I don’t know, punch-drunk on power, I guess. He wanted me to serve under him, where we’d been equals before. It would have made women subservient to men, and I wouldn’t allow it. We battled over it, and I had left Earth to lick my wounds and gather support from the angels.

“After he smote me I landed in Crete, without any memory of who or what I was. All I knew was that I was powerful and I wasn’t human. It was there that I met Uranus; he taught me Greek, and we had our children there. Several centuries later, the amnesia wore off and I remembered everything.” Sam steered her towards the sofa and sat her on it.

“How did you survive?” Gaia looked up at Dean, her eyes filling with tears again.

“I really don’t know.” The room was silent except for the creak of the house around them. Dean paced the floor, running his hands through his hair.

“So what’s next?”

Gaia buried her face in her hands.

“No idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What Gaia says about Asherah is, for the most part, true; she's an ancient semitic deity worshipped by the ancient jews as the wife of El/Elohim/Yahweh, who later became the God known in Christianity. I've obviously embellished a bit for the sake of the story, but you can read about her on Wikipedia, as well as at these links:
> 
> http://www.matrifocus.com/LAM04/spotlight.htm  
> http://newsfeed.time.com/2011/03/22/fertility-goddess-asherah-was-gods-wife-edited-out-of-the-bible/
> 
> The specific bible passages she's quoting are:  
> Deuteronomy 12:3-4  
> 1 Kings 14:15  
> 2 Chronicles 24:18


	12. Chapter 12

When Castiel returned to the safehouse ( _an abandoned warehouse, he was always finding himself in warehouses_ ), Metatron was waiting for him. She stood marking things down on her damned clipboard, looking up suddenly and bowing low when she sensed his presence. He was stiff with anger as she presumed to speak without his permission.  
  
“My Lord, I believe it is best that we move on Singer before the Winchesters figure out a way to protect him with their Greek ally.” Castiel looked at her blankly for a moment, trying to process her businesslike speech through his exhaustion and the unusual surge of emotion taking over his body. Sam had looked at him as though he’d seen a ghost. Dean’s hand was so warm on his.  
  
Asherah was alive.  
  
“We are not going to kidnap Bobby Singer. We are not at war with them, Metatron.” The angel pulled out a pair of compact, efficient-looking reading glasses from a pocket in her suit jacket and flipped through several pages on her notepad.  
  
“I believe it could help you bring the Winchesters to the fold.” He stared at her with cold rage. How could she be so oblivious, to not see her own Mother standing before her eyes?   
  
"How did you not recognize her, Metatron?" For the first time in their partnership, he saw Metatron hesitate. Pausing her writing, she took a careful step towards him.  
  
“Recognize who, my Lord?” Castiel growled in frustration, advancing on Metatron.  
  
“Asherah!” Metatron’s eyes went wide as his voice echoed through the warehouse in which they stood. That name hadn’t been spoken aloud in close to five thousand years, by decree of God himself.   
  
“I…I thought she had been destroyed, my Lord. By our Father.” He waved wildly in the direction from which he’d come, the throbbing ache in his head and neck growing steadily as he shouted.   
  
“As had I, and yet there she stands! You spoke to her yourself not minutes ago. The Queen of Heaven lives and the scribe who sees all did not recognize her.” The pain overcame him and he fell to his knees, clutching his head in his hands. Metatron seemed to be at a loss for words, standing stock-still for several moments before kneeling next to him and laying a hand on his shoulder.  
  
“I apologize, my Lord.” He knocked her hand away irritably.  
  
“Leave me.”   
  
“My lord-“ He whirled on Metatron. Every movement caused a sharp stab of pain, making him wild and careless in his movements. He struck out at her with a fist, nearly toppling over as she backed away in horror.  
  
“I said, _leave me_!”  
  
She was gone within milliseconds. Castiel sat on the ground, unable to contain a groan as his entire body throbbed.  Breathing hard, he pulled himself upright and willed the pain away. It was getting harder to do every time, especially as exhausted as he was. A breeze blew through the warehouse from the open door and he closed his eyes briefly, letting the air cool his overheated body.   
  
He flexed one cracked hand in the wind, watching the skin shift, and for a moment he remembered the feel of the sand of Canaan blowing through his fingers. He didn’t bother pushing down the memory that came with it.  
  
~~~  
  
That night he managed to slip out of the garrison unnoticed and flew down to the courtyard.   
  
The entire temple was in ruins; the raiders had done a thorough job, spending several hours after Asherah's death smashing and pillaging until they'd torn down the painted pillars and burned the silk hangings. In the distance the sacred cypress grove still smoldered lazily, the smoke blotting out the stars overhead. He couldn't suppress the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight; in his shock at seeing Asherah smote from the planet, he'd simply returned to Heaven instead of going to the worshipers as she'd asked. The Babylonians had burned the grove down with them still inside. He and all of his brothers and sisters had watched, silently, as the flames jumped quickly from branch to branch; they'd been ordered not to leave their posts.  
  
Rubble crunched under his feet as he walked across the cold, soot-streaked ground, the chilly desert wind causing tiny maelstroms of ash to swirl away from his approach.  He edged around the crater she'd left when she'd landed from Heaven, a pit a full six feet wide at least, to make his way to the outer wall. He didn't look down at the ground, refusing to search for that one particular mark scorched into the sandstone right where he knew it would be. Instead he walked towards the glint of metal several dozen cubits ahead.   
  
The sword lay mangled on the floor like a child's broken toy. Once, when he was very young, he'd asked her if he could see it. She pulled it from thin air, a trick he'd yet to learn, and held it out for his inspection. It was very beautiful, with its long, golden, graceful blade and intricately decorated grip.  
  
 _"Did my Father make this for you, Asherah?"  
  
"No, Castiel. I made this for myself." She turned the handle towards him so that he could look at it more closely. A network of Enochian runes shifted and glittered over the grip, and a holy cypress was carved into the base of the blade, its roots twining through the runes down to the pommel. He stared, wide-eyed, as she turned it slowly; everywhere her hand touched the metal there was a softly-glowing fingerprint, which flared for a second before fading.  
  
"It's beautiful, Mother." She smiled at him, tousling his hair and putting the sword away._  
  
A sudden burst of cold wind knocked him back to the present. He refocused on the ruined weapon in front of him. The runes were no longer shifting as though alive; the handle was warped and twisted by the imprint of her hand melted into it. The split in the blade ran perfectly down the center, cutting the cypress tree in half. Castiel knelt, reaching a hand out tentatively to test if it would still respond to touch. He hesitated, wondering if maybe it would only glow at _her_ touch, and felt tears fill his eyes. Perhaps it did not matter. The sword was likely as dead as she was.   
  
"Leave it, Castiel." He jumped to his feet, spinning quickly to identify the voice's source. The man stood several cubits away, watching him with large, dark eyes that Castiel usually saw dancing with humor. Tonight, however, they were just as troubled as he himself felt.  
  
"Gabriel?" The archangel nodded, stepping forward into a pool of light given off by one of the still-burning fires. His vessel was considerably larger than Castiel's, in both height and breadth; where Castiel's had been a young apprentice, Gabriel's had been a grown herder, used to physical labor. He towered over his younger brother, who walked over to join him, struggling to keep his composure in front of an elder. They stood in silence for a moment before Gabriel spoke again.  
  
"I've been told to raze what's left of the temple and grove." Castiel nodded, squaring his shoulders and staring straight ahead, waiting for the blast that would decimate the ruins. After several seconds of stillness, he turned to Gabriel in confusion. His brother was gazing down on him with concern.  
  
"We’ve also been ordered never to speak her name again, or allow her worship upon the face of the Earth. To do either is treason against our Father." The words were all it took to finally push Castiel over the edge. He closed his eyes in an attempt to stem the flow of tears, but could not control the deep, shuddering breaths racking his body. She was truly gone, and he would see her no more. The thought was unbearable.  
  
He felt Gabriel's solid arm around his shoulders. No longer caring about decorum, he wrapped his arms around his brother's waist and buried his face in his chest. They stayed that way for a minute or two, Castiel clinging to Gabriel like a lost child, until he managed to get himself back under control. Wiping his eyes, he backed away and stared at the ground. Gabriel laid a gentle hand on his shoulder and shook him slightly.  
  
"She may be destroyed, Castiel, but our Mother would be the first to tell you that those who leave us are never truly dead so long as we remember them. We are forbidden to speak her name aloud, but there is no explicit prohibition against keeping it safe in our minds and hearts." Castiel nodded slowly, and Gabriel grinned at him, cupping his cheek.   
  
"Even if I follow every other order given me, I'll always have that one small rebellion in her tribute." Clapping him on the back, Gabriel turned to face the ruined temple.  
  
"Go back to the garrison. They'll be looking for you soon." Castiel stretched his wings and soared away, leaving his brother to his work.  
  
~~~  
  
Metatron was troubled when she landed in Heaven.   
  
Why could the Lord not see that Singer was the only way to the Winchesters? He was the only thing they valued above themselves. Perhaps it was his illness blinding him, or his desire to cause the Winchesters (particularly the shorter one) no more distress than he thought absolutely necessary. She still could not comprehend his fascination with these two humans in particular. The doubt that was creeping into her mind sent her reeling.  
  
Even more distressing was the shocking revelation levied upon her only moments before. Asherah, Queen of Heaven, was still alive. Worse, Metatron had met her face-to-face and had not known her, had insulted and attacked her. _I cannot,_ she thought, _be blamed entirely. She is not what she once was. Her might is gone, and her face changed so much that it’s a miracle the Lord recognized her at all._ A sudden wave of remorse washed over her as she remembered the moment of Asherah’s destruction.  
  
Despite thinking that God had been correct in punishing his Queen for her blasphemy, Metatron had still wept.  
  
None of this solved the problem of the Winchesters, however. Biting back troublesome emotion, Metatron straightened her suit and called the one angel she knew who could be consistently relied upon to do his job without allowing feelings to get in the way.  
  
“Seraphiel.” The gigantic blonde appeared instantly by her side, his cold blue eyes deceptively blank. Metatron was not fooled; Seraphiel took in more than one might suspect.   
  
“Yes?” Metatron hesitated; defying the Lord could bring about serious consequences, and went against everything she knew as an angel. But he needed this. He needed help, and that was what Metatron was there for, wasn’t it?  
  
Sighing, she gave the order.  
  
“Bring me Bobby Singer.”  
  
Before Seraphiel could disappear, she caught him swiftly by the arm and pulled him around to face her. He narrowed his eyes, unused to being manhandled.  
  
“I want him completely unharmed, Seraphiel.” A snarl of contempt crossed his face, and he yanked his arm away.  
  
“Yes, Metatron. I will not harm the human.” He flew away in the direction of Earth, leaving Metatron alone with her thoughts.   
  
~~~  
  
Sam was rudely awakened the next morning by Gaia chattering loudly on the phone in Greek. He sat up on the too-short couch and stretched his cramped limbs, watching her bounce around the kitchen making coffee. He checked his watch: 9:00 AM.   
  
They had to stop doing this.  
  
“Look, I know you don’t sleep or whatever, but this isn’t working for me.” Gaia shook a finger at him and walked over, cordless phone tucked between her head and shoulder, and unceremoniously set a plate of eggs in his lap and a cup of coffee in his hand before moving back to the kitchen, never letting up on the constant stream of noise flowing from her mouth. When she finally hung up the phone Sam moved into the kitchen, watching her walk around with suspicion.  
  
“You’re cheerful this morning.” She paused in front of the stove, refusing to look at Sam.  
  
“Am I?” It was certainly an improvement over the night before; shortly after having been outed as the wife of God, she’d gone upstairs and locked herself in the room at the end of the hall for the rest of the night. The memory of the brief, electric sensation that accompanied touching the sword flashed through Sam’s mind, and he shook it off as he looked around for his brother.  
  
“Where’s Dean?” Gaia dumped the frying pan she’d used to make Sam’s eggs in the sink, apparently not caring enough to clean it, and sat on the counter.  
  
“He’s taking a shower. We’re gonna have visitors here in a few minutes.” Sam choked on a mouthful of egg, thinking about his own un-showered, couch-rumpled state.  
  
“Visitors?”  
  
“Yes. And I need to ask you a favor.” Gaia studied Sam for a minute as he shoveled another forkful of eggs into his mouth. If she was going to do the ‘dramatic pause’ thing, he may as well eat.  
  
“Assuming he hasn’t told anyone else, nobody but us and Castiel knows about Asherah. I’d like it to stay that way. So let’s avoid mentioning the whole ‘Queen of Heaven’ part to anyone.” Sam swallowed a burning-hot piece of egg, grimacing as it made its way down to his stomach.  
  
“Sure. But why? Wouldn’t you returning kind of…end this? Hey look, God may be gone but Mom’s back?” Gaia laughed and hopped off the counter, grabbing the coffeepot and refilling his cup.  
  
“That’s sweet of you to say, Sam, but I’d be in even more trouble than I currently am. You saw what happened. All those angels that wanted to kill me before have double the incentive now.” Replacing the pot, she sat down at the table across from Sam.  
  
“And in Hell…if whoever’s in charge down there found out I was back in town, I guarantee they’d be out for my blood. It would get ugly.” Sam guiltily pushed egg fragments around on his plate. Yet again, she found herself in a life or death situation because of him and Dean.   
  
They had to stop doing this.  
  
About half an hour later there was a knock on the door. Sam poked his head out of the bathroom and looked around. Neither Gaia nor Dean were anywhere to be seen. Thanking god that he’d managed to finish his shower, he toweled off his hair quickly and threw on a fresh pair of jeans and a shirt, bounding towards the door as the knock came again, more impatiently this time.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” He opened the door to reveal a slim young woman, her sandy hair cut short and wild, dressed in corduroy jeans, red sneakers, and a button-down shirt. She took her sunglasses off to reveal blue eyes that swept Sam critically from head to toe, assessing him silently. Around one wrist was a bronze bracelet, its shining metal surface etched with a stylized picture of an owl in flight. She cracked her gum and raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
“You gonna let me in, or what?” Sam stood aside immediately and she strode in, taking in the house with the same calm gaze with which she’d appraised him. Gaia was at the foot of the stairs before Sam had time to blink.   
  
“Athena!”  
  
“Gaia!”  
  
The two women embraced as Dean came down from the attic. He pointed at the young woman,  mouthing her name at Sam with a look of surprise. Sam gave him a bewildered look in return. Gaia turned to them, smiling wider than she had since they’d met her.  
  
“Sam, Dean, this is my great-granddaughter Athena. Goddess of warfare and wisdom. She’s a contractor with the Department of Defense.” Athena nodded curtly to both of them as Sam and Dean each said hello. _Not one for pleasantries, then,_ Sam thought. He watched as Gaia looked around the room in confusion before turning back to Athena questioningly.  
  
“I don’t mean to be rude, but…is this it?” Athena raised an eyebrow in what apparently passed for an apology, her tone curt.  
  
“Yes.” Gaia threaded her fingers through her hair, a gesture Sam had come to associate with unfortunate turns of luck. He edged around the two to better hear the conversation, catching an irritated glance from Athena. Gaia shook her head absentmindedly.  
  
“Seriously? No Hephaestus? No Apollo? I’dve thought Ares at the very least would be up for it.” Athena smirked, her shoulders shaking slightly.  
  
“So did I, but the second he heard the word ‘angel’ he shut the door in my face. First intelligent thing he’s done in centuries.” This earned a burst of laughter from Gaia.   
  
“Damn. He may be dumber than a box of hair, but he’s good in a fight. So it’s just us, then.” Athena nodded in confirmation.  
  
“Just us. Did you get the knife?” Gaia whipped the knife from thin air the way she did her bow, handing it over to Athena.  
  
“We did.” Athena fingered the crack in the obsidian blade, wincing as she did so. The two goddesses shared an unreadable look, and Athena handed the knife back to Gaia. Gaia walked over to put it carefully into Sam’s hand, speaking to Athena over her shoulder.  
  
“Do you have the Aegis?” Athena raised her left wrist, shaking the bronze bracelet at Gaia.  
  
“Of course I do. Now tell me about going to the Underworld.”


	13. Chapter 13

Athena stood gaping at her great-grandmother in horror.   
  
“ _Yiayia_ , that was _stupid_.” Gaia sighed, chastened, and crossed her arms over her chest defensively.   
  
“I know. What the hell else was I supposed to do? I had no leverage and these two were in bad shape.” Dean rolled his eyes and stepped forward between the two goddesses, cutting off Athena’s tirade before she could get going. The two had been arguing over the exact terms of Gaia’s agreement with Hades for several minutes now, and he was getting sick of it. And he agreed with Athena, who was currently shooting him a death glare for interrupting.  
  
“Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, but…what are we going to do?”Gaia slumped into a kitchen chair.  
  
“I don’t know. I’ve run out of ideas. That’s why we have Athena.” Athena sat down a bit more gracefully, adjusting the bracelet on her wrist as she did so. Dean sat across from her, while Sam perched on the counter behind him. Lacing her fingers together on the tabletop, Athena spoke in a tight, businesslike tone.  
  
“Were I the angel, having been denied a direct strike I’d opt for a siege. I’d take out your friends and associates, remove any safe houses you may have, things like that.” Dean leaned forward, connecting the dots quickly.  
  
“So we need to get out before they do that.” Athena shrugged.  
  
“Yes and no. We can relocate, or we can strike preemptively. But since they’re probably planning to go after anyone who knows you, we may want to warn your friends first.” She looked around at the three of them questioningly.  
  
“Is there anyone particularly special to you that he knows about? Someone he might think to use as leverage against you?” Sam and Dean spoke simultaneously, without hesitation.  
  
“Bobby.” There was a beat of silence. Dean felt his heart drop. Surely Cas wouldn’t stoop that low. Even superpowered angels had to have lines they wouldn’t cross. He was pulled back to the present as Athena slapped the table and stood.  
  
“We should go get him right away.” Gaia stood with her and moved to a clear spot in the hall, beckoning the others to her as she pulled out her bow.   
  
“Everyone make sure you’re touching me, somewhere with bare skin. Not my hands,” she warned, as Dean made to grab one of them.  
  
“I might need them to defend us. On my shoulders, behind me.” Dean did as he was told, placing his right hand on Gaia’s right shoulder. Sam did the same with his left hand on her left shoulder, while Athena stood between them with her hand on Gaia’s back under her shirt. Dean’s thumb just barely brushed the side of her neck, but it was enough to create the jolting connection that always followed skin-to-skin contact with Gaia.  She shifted her grip on her bow and turned her head towards Dean.   
  
“Sam and Dean, picture Bobby as clearly as you can. Think about where he’s most likely to be.” Dean felt a slow tickle in his mind, a gentle push of what must be Gaia’s influence. Taking several short breaths, he raised his free hand to his temple.  
  
“That feels freakin’ weird.” Gaia clucked at him in annoyance.  
  
“It’s how I’m going to locate him, Dean. Now _think_.”  
  
Dean closed his eyes and pictured Bobby as he’d last seen him, doffing his baseball cap to smooth out his thinning hair before setting it back on his head in a practiced, nearly unconscious motion. He held that image in his mind, repeating over and over again, as the house around him came into sharper focus. The faded, ugly-ass wallpaper clashed horribly with Bobby’s plaid shirt. The kitchen floorboards sagged. Dean could practically smell the weirdly comforting scent of coffee, gunpowder, old books, and whiskey. Gaia suddenly tensed, and Dean felt the small tickle turn into an epiphany as exclamation points floated through his mind.   
  
“I’ve got him.” There was an odd twist in his senses, and when he opened his eyes Dean found himself standing in a puddle of cold, oily mud with a shotgun in his face.  
  
~~~  
  
Bobby Singer had come to expect a lot of things in his life, and not a lot of them were good.  
  
For example, he knew that making a cup of coffee pretty much guarantees a monster attack. Or worse, a phone call. And even if it didn’t, it would end in heartburn. Forget about dinner. That brings on the Apocalypse. So it’s not that surprising that the Winchester boys showing up at his house out of thin air with two pretty young things almost certainly meant the idjits are in some kind of trouble. Grabbing his shotgun, he sneaked out the door and around a pile of rusty cars; couldn’t be too careful, really. They’d appeared out of nowhere, no Impala in sight. Might be demons.  
  
“Alright, hands where I can see them.” Dean rolled his eyes at him.  
  
“Bobby, it’s us. Not demons.” Bobby snorted, unimpressed.  
  
“Yeah, whatever. Get your knife out slowly, you know the drill-“  
  
Bobby didn’t expect a sudden ass-kicking by the girls.  
  
The taller one, who couldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet, quickly disarmed him with a superhuman strength that knocked the sense right out of him. He overbalanced and stumbled, nearly falling into the mud, only barely managing to recover at the last minute.   
  
When he looked back up, the other lady had him on the business end of a wicked-looking silver arrow. Sam and Dean quickly jumped between the two of them, talking quickly to the woman.   
  
“Gaia, it’s okay. He’s our friend.”  
  
“He had a shotgun to your _head_.”  
  
“That’s just how he says hello. Seriously, don’t shoot him.” After a few seconds she put the bow down, un-nocking the arrow and putting it away ( _where? No quiver, she just kind of threw it over her shoulder and it vanished, what the hell…_ ). Her bow she kept gripped tightly in her hand. Sam turned to Bobby, making an apologetic puppy face, and clapped him on the back.  
  
“Hi, Bobby. We’re back.”Bobby glared at the boys.  
  
“I can see that. Who are the Amazons?” He waved his hand at the women, who stood off to the side. The one with his shotgun handed it back carefully while Bow Lady leaned on a pile of oil drums. Dean grinned at her and she shot him an upraised eyebrow as he pointed each woman out, introducing them by name.  
  
“Bobby, this is Gaia and Athena. Ladies, this is our friend Bobby Singer.” It took Bobby a few seconds to process.  
  
“Gaia and Athena. As in, _the_ -“ Dean interrupted him.  
  
“Yeah.” Sam pointed at Gaia.  
  
“She’s the one Hector was telling us about, remember?” Bobby chuckled at the memory of the weird little man.  
  
“Oh yeah. How is the little guy?” There was a moment of silence among the five of them before Gaia spoke, her voice heavy with sadness.  
  
“He died fighting some angels.”   
  
“Oh.” The pause continued awkwardly as Bobby tried to think of an appropriate subject change.   
  
“Where’s the Impala?” Dean shifted uncomfortably.   
  
“She’s in Georgia.” Glancing at the two goddesses, Bobby nodded towards the house.  
  
“Can you ladies give us a minute?” Both women turned and walked off towards the road, peering around at the rusted cars surrounding them and talking quietly to each other. When they were out of earshot, Bobby turned back to Sam and Dean.  
  
“So how is he?” Dean began pacing the ground in front of him, his voice rough.  
  
“He looks like hell, Bobby. You should see him.” Sam folded his arms across his chest, a troubled look crossing his face.   
  
“Those souls have put him through a meat grinder.” Bobby looked between the two of them expectantly. When neither man spoke, he cleared his throat to prompt them.  
  
“Do you have a way to get them out?” Sam ran a hand through his hair, looking at the muddy ground.  
  
“Yeah. Gaia has this knife that should be able to do it.”   
  
“ _Should_?” Bobby felt the beginnings of a hellish case of heartburn in his chest. He’d been expecting something a little better than _should_ , considering they had one of the most powerful non-Judeo-Christian entities on the planet on their side. He glanced at Gaia, who was busy polishing her bow. Sam followed his gaze, giving a halfhearted smile when she drew and released an imaginary arrow to test the bowstring.  
  
“It got damaged while we were getting it out of the Underworld. Gaia doesn’t know if it’ll work up here.” A loud crash behind him made him turn, and he found Dean staring at a spilled pile of car parts, wiping grease from his hands.  
  
“Dean? You okay?” Dean turned to face him, his entire body tense to the point of shaking.  
  
 “He’s _dying_.” Bobby slowly stepped over and put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, squeezing hard.  
  
“Well, let’s make sure we do everything we can to get this thing right. He deserves that.” Dean stared at him for a moment, and then moved away. Bobby watched him carefully; the kid looked absolutely wrecked, topped with a good dose of exhaustion. Dean rubbed his face with one hand.  
  
“Yeah.” Bobby turned back towards Sam to give Dean a minute.  
  
“So what are you two doing here anyways?”  
  
A sudden shout from Athena caused all three men to jump.  
  
“Don’t come any closer!”  
  
Picking up the shotgun, Bobby ran after Sam and Dean. They stopped short at the sight that met them: Athena was in attack stance, her bare arm held as if wielding a shield, holding a short sword in her other hand, while Gaia stood with bow drawn and pointing at the hulking blonde man standing in front of the two of them. Bobby leveled his shotgun at the man as well, hoping like hell someone would tell him what was going on. Gaia shouted at the man in a steady voice.  
  
“What do you want, Seraphiel?” _Seraphiel_? The man was an _angel_? This day just kept getting better and better. The angel looked at her coldly, his deep voice carrying and echoing over the junkyard.  
  
“I was sent for Bobby Singer. It appears I have found an extra prize.” Bobby reeled for a moment with the realization that Cas would try to kidnap him. Dean stood beside him, speaking through gritted teeth.  
  
“I can’t believe he’d do this.” Bobby simply nodded in agreement.  
  
Seraphiel stalked towards Gaia and Athena, finally showing emotion; a predatory smile crossed his face, making the hair on Bobby’s head stand straight up. This asshole was bad news all around. He stopped short and inclined his head towards Gaia.  
  
“And I will finally get to kill you.” Gaia scoffed at him, pulling her bowstring tighter. Athena tensed beside her.  
  
“Not likely.”   
  
Gaia launched the arrow while Athena charged, sword held high. Seraphiel laughed, drawing his own sword, and ducked the shot. He met Athena with a blow that threw her through the air, twisting and turning to land, catlike, on her feet several feet away. Gaia sent another arrow singing through the air, grazing Seraphiel’s arm.  He growled, enraged, and sprinted towards Gaia, Athena on his heels.   
  
Gaia caught the first strike of his sword with her bow, the force of it sliding her back in the mud. They grappled for traction, each pushing furiously against the other, until Athena caught up to them and with an upward stroke of her sword broke the lock. Seraphiel swung at her with a huge fist and caught her in the chest, sending her sputtering backwards as Gaia’s bow whipped down and cracked across his jaw. Stunned, Seraphiel took several steps backward. Athena had stumbled to her feet and was charging again, and Seraphiel threw his sword at her with incredible accuracy. She swung her left arm up.  
  
Just before the sword struck a fatal blow, it bounced away from Athena in midair and fell to the ground. A ripple of light spread from the point at which it had stopped, forming the outline of a shield before fading away. Athena shouted triumphantly and continued forward, where Gaia and Seraphiel were currently struggling for control of Gaia’s bow. Their hands were both locked around it as Gaia tried to force Seraphiel to the ground. He gritted his teeth and pushed back, the bow bending under his weight. He suddenly surged, pushing Gaia off-balance and toppling her backward. He managed to get a knee up in time, landing on her torso.  
  
The bow snapped under Seraphiel’s weight, and Bobby heard Sam and Dean gasp. Seraphiel was leaning as hard as he could into Gaia’s chest, trying to break her ribs. Bobby began to sneak forward, hoping that a shotgun blast to the head would be enough to distract the bastard so Gaia could get away. Shotgun leveled and aimed, Bobby was seconds from pulling the trigger when Seraphiel suddenly stiffened, staring down at his own stomach. The tip of a bloody sword stuck out a few inches, and he fell over to reveal a panting, sweating Athena, covered in scratches and mud.   
  
Gaia rolled onto her side and curled into a ball, wheezing hard. Bobby ran to her, everyone else close behind, and put a tentative hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Are you okay?”  Gaia nodded, sitting up carefully.  
  
“Give me his sword.” Athena ran to get it while Bobby pulled Gaia to her feet. She walked over to Seraphiel and jerked the sword from his back, eliciting a moan of pain from the angel. Kicking him over to face her, she took his sword from Athena and knelt, holding it to his neck in threat.  
  
“Castiel is too weak to make it all the way back to Heaven every time he walks the Earth. He has to have a safe house somewhere down here to hole up in. Tell me where it is.” Seraphiel spat blood at her, hitting her shoulder.  
  
“No.” Gaia struck him across the face with the handle of the sword.  
  
“Tell me.” Seraphiel simply smiled. Gaia considered him for a moment, and then buried the sword in his thigh, twisting it viciously. Seraphiel screamed. Gaia didn’t stop, withdrawing the blade and stabbing him again. Bobby had to turn away, feeling sick. He caught a glimpse of Dean’s face; it had hardened, his eyes fixed on Gaia, jaw clenched. Bobby could see the pulse throbbing in his temple.   
  
Finally, Seraphiel broke.  
  
“I’ll tell you. I’ll tell.” Gaia leaned forward to hear his whisper, nodding as he spoke.  When she straightened back up, she held the knife to his chest, the point piercing the skin above his heart.  
  
“Thank you.” With one quick thrust she drove the sword in. A blinding flash filled the junkyard, and when Bobby blinked away the afterimage he saw the black outline of Seraphiel’s wings across the mud. He stared at Gaia, who was picking up the shattered pieces of her bow.  
  
“Did you have to kill him like that?” She raised an eyebrow at him.  
  
“He’s the one who killed Hector.” Sam walked over to her and eyed the bow, worried.  
  
“Can you fix it?” Gaia sighed and shook her head. She examined the broken ends, trying to fit them together, but there were too many missing pieces. The grip had splintered, and the inlaid silver was warped beyond repair. She closed her eyes for a moment and lowered her head, as if trying to hold back tears.  
  
“No.” She reached behind her back and the pieces vanished into thin air. Bobby blinked in surprise, shaking his head. He considered asking before deciding that he didn’t really care to know.  
  
“So where’s he holed up?” Gaia coughed violently before responding, getting a concerned look from Athena.  
  
“He’s in a warehouse in upstate New York.” Bobby frowned, annoyed. Cas couldn’t have picked a less convenient hiding spot if he’d tried. Which he probably had, to be completely honest.  
  
“How the hell are we supposed to get there? That’s over a thousand miles away.” Dean chucked a thumb at Gaia, who stood beside him with arms folded.  
  
“She can teleport, Bobby.” Gaia sighed, clearly exhausted.  
  
“It’ll be tough with all five of us, though. Have you got any holy oil?” Bobby thought for a second; he should have some in the safe room. It gave him a pang to think about. It had been a gift from Cas.  
  
“Yeah. Do you think it’ll work on him, being all juiced up?” Gaia shook her head at him.  
  
“It’s not for Castiel.”


End file.
